A Minor Inconvenience
by innercornerhighlight
Summary: Because when you are a Kabra, love can be nothing more than a minor inconvenience. AU.
1. Chapter 1: Happy birthday, Ian

Ian Kabra's fingertips performed an absentminded dance atop the marble banister in a subtle display of his anxiety. The young man's handsome features were arranged in disdain as he observed the gaggle of unwelcome guests in his home. He had realized as a child that aristocracy did not imply tolerability, although he didn't think that peasants had the capacity to be any more tolerable. At this very moment, he couldn't decide what was worse: the thrum of inauthentic conversation or the sickly sweet sounding music to which many of the guests were dancing. In the end he decided that they were mutually unbearable.

"Ian!"

Ian's broad shoulders slumped at the familiarly shrill call of his name, and he slowly turned to face his sister, raising his eyebrows at her in response.

Dark hair swept over one shoulder, she clutched her heavy violet skirts, pretty face in a scowl. "Why aren't you downstairs speaking with the guests? Can you stop being a hermit for once and be grateful for what mother and father are doing for you? It's your birthday for Luke's sake!"

"My apologies, dear sister, you're right: kissing up to strangers really makes me appreciate the sixteen years I've spent kissing up to strangers," Ian slipped his hands into the pockets of his dark suit, rolling his eyes.

Natalie groaned, rolling her own as she looped an arm through his. "You will enjoy this party if it's the last thing you do, Ian, everyone is here to wish you well and you mustn't appear ungrateful!" The thirteen year old yanked him down the flight of stairs with surprising strength and agility for a petite girl in a corset.

"Fucking hell, Natalie, I don't want to spend my evening thanking so called well wishers for insincere gifts and wishes! I don't give two shits about who they are and what piece of land they own," Ian hissed, trying to pull away from his sister.

Natalie smacked him on the arm, before giving him a deadly glare. "Ian, I swear, if the Lords and Ladies of the Lucian Kingdom decide to usurp mother and father because you decided to be an idiot and not greet them on your birthday, then I will make you regret living till sixteen."

Ian rubbed the stinging spot on his arm as he descended the staircase whispering a colorful string of curses under his breath.

"I'm so pleased you could make it, Duchess!"

"Yes, I have to agree with you, my Lord, we must enforce policies to encourage trade with the other kingdoms."

"Let me get you another drink, sir, your cup is empty!"

And so Ian participated in the farce that was high society, and he saw his mother and father do the same, faking laughter as they spoke with another faceless aristocrat.

As the crowd grew increasingly intoxicated, Ian slipped away, wandering past the guests to the curtained french doors that concealed a spacious balcony. Leaning on the gold leaf railing he exhaled, feeling slightly more at ease as the breeze ran through his dark curls.

His amber gaze settled on the moon, which loomed ominously over the lake that enclosed the palace. He began to lose himself in his thoughts when he heard a clumsy shuffle of steps and the doors click behind him.

"Oof!" he heard a soft grunt before he looked over his shoulder to see a wide eyed young woman.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know there was anyone else here," she murmured, rubbing her bare elbow.

Ian studied her for a moment, drinking in the sight of this stranger, auburn tresses framing her perplexingly beautiful face, with golden silk clinging to her slender frame. She looked up to meet his gaze, piercing jade eyes behind a haze of dark lashes, crimson staining her cheeks.

Ian released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "That's alright," he said, "there's plenty of room on the balcony for both of us."

She paused before planting herself on the edge of the railing, as far away from him as possible. She silently observed the night as he silently observed her, curiosity overtaking his senses.

"I am Ian Kabra, Prince of the Lucian Kingdom, may I ask who you are?" He said, cocking his head to the side, flashing his teeth in a dashing half smile.

She didn't seem fazed, but nodded politely in response. "Amy Cahill, P-p-princess of the Madrigal Kingdom," she lowered herself in a curtsy, before stumbling and almost tripping on her own feet. Steadying herself with the banister she offered him a sheepish smile, "happy birthday, I g-guess."

Ian smiled. And not one of the fake, dazzling smiles he used to charm guests or girls he intended to bed, but a real smile, from a place of genuine appreciation. She had a stutter, how charming.

"Thank you, Princess," he bowed, before sliding closer to her, so they were almost shoulder to shoulder. "So what brings you here?"

"To the party or to the b-balcony?" She asked almost teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

"Both," he chuckled. The night had taken an unexpectedly pleasant turn.

"Well, as princess of a n-n-neighboring kingdom I suppose I must be here to wish you well," she shrugged, as he laughed, "and I do wish you well, s-sir," she smiled. "But I'm not very g-good at being at gatherings as g-grand as this one," Amy's gaze drifted to the stars that dotted the sky.

"I understand," Ian sighed, "I feel the same."

He felt her hand gently squeeze his own, and as his eyes met hers he realized he was in trouble. Fucking hell. Were those butterflies in his stomach? He barely knew the girl!

"I take it that you enjoy dancing as much as I do, then!" Ian smirked, feeling a spurt of pleasure as she laughed, the sound music to his ears.

"Yes, I love tripping over my own two feet as a strange man stands too close for comfort," she giggled, jewel toned eyes full of mirth as her stutter momentarily disappeared.

"Am I standing too close for comfort?" Ian asked, lips inches away from hers.

Before she could respond, Ian felt the doors clatter open as his night was once more disrupted by his devilish little sister.

"Ian! There you are! Mother and - oh!" Natalie paused in her complaint as she realized what she had walked into.

"I can't believe you just did that," Ian fumed, pacing across the hall, Natalie struggling to keep up.

"Father said he wanted to speak with you, and I didn't know you would be with some girl! Who was she anyway?" Natalie probed, breathless, her skirts swishing around her ankles. "Also, slow down!"

"None of your business," Ian stated, adjusting his pace. "She was tolerable and I was enjoying myself but now I'm talking to you and doing the exact opposite."

Natalie gasped theatrically, and was about to respond when Ian clamped a hand over her mouth and paused before the door of their father's study, which was slightly ajar.

"Vikram, these are your people! But it shouldn't matter who's people they are, the fact is that they're _people_ , and this is the best thing you could do for them!" A tall, graceful woman with loosely pinned up auburn curls exclaimed, thumping her fist on the table that stood between her and Ian's father, who's face held an unfamiliar softness.

"You know how much respect I have for you and your policies, Hope, and as much as I agree with you, my hands are tied," Vikram shook his head as the red headed woman scoffed.

"All of the kingdoms have agreed to sign the Cahill Treaty, Vikram, you need to make your cabinet understand it's value," Hope sighed, "you're holding the citizens of the Lucian Kingdom back, they won't be able to keep up with the expansion of inter kingdom trade, and they won't legally have the rights citizens in other kingdoms would. Girls need to go to school Vikram!"

"I know, I know, and I already told you, my hands are tied, do you know what the nobles would do to my family if I tackled the wealth gap? If the nobles felt like their lifestyle was being threatened in any way, if everyone were equal in the eyes of the law, then my family would no longer be in power, and as much as I understand the value of equality you can't expect me to put aside my legacy for this," Vikram placed his hand on top of Hope's, and Ian felt Natalie tense up next to him.

Hope pulled her hand away, and gave Vikram a probing look. "I understand," she knelt into a deep curtesy. "The Madrigal Kingdom is grateful for your diplomatic efforts, your majesty."

Vikram's normally stoic features expressed hurt before he composed himself, responding with a bow. "Likewise."

Ian grabbed Natalie's hand and pulled her down the hall as the door swung open and Hope walked out.

Ian pieced it together the second she mentioned the treaty, largely because she bore a striking resemblance to her daughter. She was Queen Hope Cahill of the Madrigal Kingdom, pathetic peacekeepers that had forgotten the values that upheld glorious kingdoms. Except Amy, she was different.

"What was that?" Natalie whispered, more unnerved by Vikram's uncharacteristic display of affection towards a woman that wasn't their mother than by the mention of the Treaty. Ian had never seen his father so tender with their mother, or with anyone, but unlike Natalie he was more concerned about the implication of a political disagreement with the other kingdoms.

"I don't know, but I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," Ian squeezed his sisters shoulder, giving her a well practiced smile of reassurance. "Father knows what he's doing, and I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all of...that."

Natalie nodded, but Ian could see worry brewing in her eyes. "I'm going to go back to the party, and you probably should as well after you speak to father."

Ian watched her walk down the hall, and decided he would deal with her later. Being a Kabra was emotionally grueling, and as much as Natalie tried to pretend she was as resilient as Ian was, he knew that she clung to the displays of approval and affection from their parents more than she'd like to admit.

Ian peeked into the study to see his father stood over the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back.

"Father? You wanted to talk," Ian said, his tone colored with nervousness.

Vikram turned to face him, imposing and stone faced as always. The Vikram that had been speaking to Hope Cahill was nowhere to be found.

"Yes, come in, son, shut the door behind you," he replied, sweeping his hand in a shutting motion.

Ian did so, and faced his father once more. While he was as terrifying as always, Ian could see that he was more absent minded than usual. Ian remained silent, waiting for him to speak, the crackle of the fire doing nothing to ease his nerves.

"You are a man now, Ian, and in two years time you will ascend to the throne and take my place," Vikram began as he poured himself a cup of wine. "That means you need to understand the responsibilities of being king." For the first time in his life, Ian's father proceeded to pour him a cup of wine, and slid it across the table to him.

Ian took a sip, relishing the taste of manhood. He'd drunk alcohol many times before, but never had that drink been poured by his father.

"Yes, sir," Ian said, nodding diligently.

"Next time you decide to eavesdrop on my conversation, do a better job, my son," Vikram chuckled, as the color in Ian's cheeks rose.

"I'm sorry, father, I didn't intend to-"

"It's alright, you did, and you heard things that I would've discussed with you regardless," Vikram sat across the desk from Ian and handed him a leather bound file of papers.

"This is a copy of the Cahill Treaty," he said, "I want you to read it by next week and come up with a set of policies to counteract the effect it's ratification in foreign kingdoms will have on the Lucians."

Ian flipped through it as Vikram observed him wordlessly, phrases like "universal suffrage" and "free trade" catching his eye. He skimmed a few pages, and thought what he'd read to be a highly coherent, detailed effort to improve the livelihood of citizens in all five kingdoms through a plan to maximize education and employment, promote equality, and enhance the workings of the economy.

"It's genius, isn't it," Vikram said, placing his empty cup on the desk. "Queen Hope worked on it for years, and it's been signed by all the kingdoms except for ours."

"Why?" Ian asked, almost dumbly. He knew the answer, but he needed to hear how corrupt the kingdom he was going to inherit someday was to quell any lingering hopes for bettering his country.

"Because the aristocracy will cease to exist if we hand the common person the means to improve their own lives, there will be a revolution, and the Kabra dynasty will come to an end, to put it simply, boy," Vikram spat, "ruling some kingdoms might be about making the best decisions for your people, but here in our kingdom, we need to make the best decisions for ourselves."

Ian looked up to see his father pouring himself another cup. "No one loves and respects the Kabras and no one will forgive us if we stumble in our ruling. The nobles are merciless- if you fuck it up then you fuck it up for good, and the Kabra dynasty will come to a shameful close."

Ian shut the file, and placed it on the desk.

"Happy birthday, son," Vikram raised his glass, taking a swig, "enjoy your youth while it lasts."


	2. Chapter 2: Wedding bells!

Amy swirled her spoon through the dish of apricot ice cream, flipping thoughtlessly through her annotated copy of the Cahill Treaty. It was a warm night, and she was perched on a swing in the middle of the rose garden, where she liked to be when she had a lot on her mind. She turned sixteen at midnight, in exactly 23 minutes, and she was mortified. Every year she crept closer to her birthright, closer to the throne, which she wanted nothing to do with.

"Amy, you are the bravest, most intelligent person of your age I know, and you will make an incredible queen one day, my darling," her grandmother grace had told her once, velvety hands stroking her cat Saladin who mrrp-ed in agreement.

"But Grace, I can't talk to people, not like you or mom or dad can, it's just, well, I don't know, they make me so nervous," Amy sighed, kneeling in front of her grandmother to give Saladin a cuddle.

"You are fifteen years old, and in time you will learn to command a room, the fact that you are so self aware and observant, so keen to learn and so respectful, is what shows that you are fit for leadership."

Amy thought about that conversation all the time. In time? But when? What did she have to do to rid herself of her inability to speak confidently to strangers? It frustrated her to no end, she had an expansive vocabulary and was deeply knowledgeable on most subjects, but in the end when it came to conversation all of the charming, intelligent things she could think of saying would remain on the tip of her tongue, or be contorted by her awful stutter.

There was that conversation with the Lucian Prince that she thought had went quite well. She blushed at the thought of him, a cheeky smile playing on his perfect lips as inky black hair fell into his eyes - gorgeous eyes the color of molten gold, friendly and inviting but full of untold secrets. But she was getting ahead of herself. He might've been handsome and sweet to her, but there was a lot more to a man, and she was a princess: she didn't have time to be swept into fantasies by tall, dark, handsome strangers that would end in her heart being broken - she had a country to rule.

"Happy birthday!" She heard yells and a stampede of feet hitting grass, and she stood up in alarm, dropping her belongings as she swung around to see her brother, mother, and father running towards her holdings plates of sweets, her grandmother Grace trailing slightly behind holding a small velvet box and a pretty sign that read "Happy Birthday, Amy!" in lovely penmanship.

Amy laughed as she was wrapped in a tight group hug, before her mother began to kiss her cheeks and she watched her father wipe away a tear or three.

"My baby girl is growing up so fast," he sighed, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Dad," she rolled her eyes, as her mother began to sob as well.

"We just can't believe you're already sixteen, sweetheart," Hope exclaimed, Arthur wrapping an arm around her.

"Remember when she was one and she said her first word, Arthur?" Hope gazed tearfully at her daughter, who had a sheepish yet tender smile on her lips.

"Oh, God, yes, "daddy", I couldn't have been-" Arthur began wistfully, before Hope's jaw dropped.

"Wait, excuse me? Her first word was most definitely "mama", Arthur, you forget!" Hope crossed her arms, pulling away from her husband as she raised an accusatory eyebrow.

As their parents got into a harmless squabble over what Amy's first word had been, Dan and Amy shared a knowing smile.

"Happy birthday, dork," he said, almost lovingly, "because you made it to sixteen, I guess you've earned one hug," Dan said, as Amy chuckled pulling him in.

"Just one!" Dan said in feigned sternness. Amy stuck her tongue out at him and he responded with twice the enthusiasm.

"Congratulations, dearest," Grace smiled tenderly, kissing her on both cheeks and giving her a warm hug. "I'm so proud of the woman you are, Amy, and you should be too."

"Thanks, Grace," Amy smiled, "I'll try."

The laughter and festivities of midnight were a sharp contrast to the unpleasant surprise that awaited Amy next morning. She stood in her mother's study after breakfast, confused by how affronted both of her parents had looked all morning.

"What's wrong?" Amy asked, raising an eyebrow in a fashion similar to her mother.

Hope and Arthur exchanged looks of concern, and Arthur placed a supportive hand on Hope's shoulder as she slid a pile of letters across the desk.

"Just look for yourself," Hope muttered, "it's ridiculous."

Amy skeptically read the first letter, not knowing what to expect.

Dear Your Majesties,

I hope you are in the best of health and spirit. I write to you to humbly ask for a meeting with your daughter, Princess Amy Cahill. Tales of her intelligence, kindness, and beauty have swept the land, and I would like to to present myself as a suitor to her highness. I am certain that we would be an excellent match, and I hope that your majesties will at least allow me an opportunity to be graced by her presence. I eagerly await your response.

Best regards,

Evan Tolliver, Duke of Ensea

When Amy looked up, her parents were both staring at her expectantly. Amy thumbed through the stack of papers in disbelief.

"Oh my god, there must be over a hundred letters here," she murmured.

"Two hundred and eleven. All from different suitors," Hope said in exasperation, leaning back in her seat.

"Have you two been hiding these from me?" Amy raised her voice, green eyes widening in fear.

"No, no, of course not, angel, we wouldn't do that," Arthur rushed to explain, "believe it or not, they were all delivered this morning."

Amy looked from her mother to her father, looking for a trace of a laugh. They couldn't have been serious.

"Sixteen is the age of consent, Amy, none of these men would've dreamed of explicitly asking for a chance to court or marry your before now, not unless they wanted to deal with me," Hope smiled darkly, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, what are we doing about this, then?" Amy asked, scrunching her face in slight disgust as she read a strongly worded (and scented) proposal for marriage from a sixty year old duke.

"It's up to you, dear, you are free to decline them all, or to pursue the ones that pique your interest," Hope took the fragrant letter from Amy's hand, "except maybe this one, I'm putting my foot down on this one." Hope tore the letter in half and dropped the shredded paper into her bin.

"Okay, may I take them to the library to read through?" Amy asked, thinking about how it would probably take all day for her to get through the pile.

"Yes, of course you may," Arthur said, "just remember, sweetheart, while it would be ideal if you made a diplomatic or financial connection that would benefit the kingdom, ultimately choose with your heart," Arthur gave his daughter a gentle smile.

Hope nodded in agreement, "this is completely your choice, you're the one that will be spending time with the men you choose, not us nor any of our subjects, and as your parents our first consideration is for your happiness."

Amy stood up and gave her both her mother and father a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you so much, for everything."

Ten minutes later she was curled up on an armchair in the corner of the library, basking in the sunlight the floor length windows let through as she inhaled the musty, familiar scent of aged books. This was her favorite place in the world.

As she read each letter she got out her quill pen and annotated it, circling and writing little notes in the margins. Nearly half of them of them were dreadful and crude and she discarded them without a thought, but she began organizing the remaining half into a "yes" pile, a "maybe" pile, and a "no" pile.

She didn't, however, find herself excited by a single letter, no matter how charming and interesting its writer seemed. She knew exactly why, and she hated herself for it. She needed to stop thinking about the perfect five minutes she'd spent with Ian Kabra, the ravishingly handsome stranger.

What she didn't know was that miles away, in the Lucian Kingdom, Ian Kabra was having a similar day.

* * *

"You are sixteen, and we would like to see you wed by the time you are on the throne, my darling," Isabel said, "a wealthy lady of great status, your father and I were thinking a princess, so the Kabras would have control over two kingdoms!"

Ian was slightly groggy from having woken up late and missing breakfast. And his insufferable parents were not making his morning any better.

"Of course, mother, I would like to marry in due time, but I have just turned sixteen, and I don't see myself as ready for such a commitment," Ian said with as much respect as he could muster, stifling a yawn.

"Ian, dear boy, you don't have to marry her just yet, but courtship is long and dreary, and it would help you to start early," Vikram said, already pouring himself a drink.

"Your father and I were thinking of the Princess of the Founders Kingdom, perhaps, the Pierce family is a good, wealthy one," Isabel said, theatrically waving her hands. "I've met Princess Cara once or twice, she is very lovely, she would be acceptable."

"If I'm to eventually marry a girl, should she not be more than 'acceptable'?" Ian asked, and his mother went silent, her beautiful features absolutely expressionless all of a sudden as she looked at his father, who was gazing at him, chin resting atop his interlocked hands.

"Vikram?" Isabel probed, touching her husbands arm. "Do you want to explain this to your son?"

Vikram ignored Isabel, his eyes curious. "You sound like you have strong opinions on this matter, Ian, is there someone you want to tell us about?"

"No," Ian said far too quickly, his thoughts wandering back to beautiful jade eyes the way they had been for the past few weeks.

"Vikram! He's met someone! You ungrateful boy! Who is she? A servant girl? A prostitute? A-" Isabel's rage was interrupted, by Vikram, who gave his wife a calm look.

"Isabel, I will discuss this with Ian, father to son, do you think you could give us a moment of privacy?" Ian had never been more surprised or more relieved to hear his father speak.

Isabel's eyes were ablaze, her lips pursed, and she looked like she wanted to strangle Ian, but she stormed out the room wordlessly, her footsteps punctuated by an angry slam of the door.

"Wine?" Vikram offered, holding up a pitcher.

Ian snuck a look at the clock: it was 10:56. "Yes, please," he said. He needed a drink if he was going to have to discuss this with his father.

"Ian, I will be more upset if you keep a secret from me than if you tell me something I don't want to hear," Vikram said calmly, handing Ian a goblet.

Ian took a large swig, before meeting his father's steely gaze. "Well, she's not a servant, and she's definitely not a prostitute, and I don't know, I only spoke to her briefly," Ian began, the words spilling out of his mouth, escaping the confines of his thoughts. "I met her at the ball on my birthday, and she's actually a princess."

Vikram studied his son's face, the tenderness that had overcome his tone and temperament as he thought and spoke of this girl was entirely relatable.

"Is she now? What's her name?" Vikram's heart began to race, there were two or three princesses of Ian's age in attendance that night, it couldn't have been-

"Amy Cahill," Ian's lips spread unconsciously into a smile at the iteration of her name. That was his first time saying it out loud.

Vikram slammed his goblet on his writing desk, starling Ian, who watched his father's face momentarily shift into an expression of surprise.

"The Princess of the Madrigal Kingdom?" Vikram asked incredulously, hands shaking.

"Yes, why are you so surprised?" Ian asked, taking advantage of his father's out of character vulnerability to probe him.

"I will not support a union with the Madrigals, they are weak and their values completely misalign with ours," Vikram uttered, venomous. What are the odds that his son would fall for Hope's daughter? Why weren't they slimmer?

"Father, you haven't met her, and I know you completely disagree with the implementation of the Cahill Treaty, but another alliance might help us counteract its effects," Ian pleaded, "you asked me to think of ideas, this is the best one I have."

Vikram would not let his son have his heart broken into a million pieces the way his own had been so many years ago. The way it still was. Not knowing love was far safer than losing it.

"I will speak to your mother, we will arrange a meeting with Princess Cara Pierce."

* * *

 _Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, please keep them coming! I love seeing what everyone has to say. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_


	3. Chapter 3: Spilling some tea!

A year later, five monarchs and their successors sat around a round table, ending a somewhat productive conversation on conflict resolution in the Cahill Peninsula. King Eisenhower and his son Hamilton of the Tomas Kingdom engaged in small talk with Queen Denise and her daughter Sinead, while Queen Cora and her son Jonah pored over the treaties and conflicts that had been discussed. On Cora's right sat Vikram Kabra and his son Ian, and some blessed force of nature had placed Ian right next to Amy, who's cheeks were currently a rosy red as she turned away from him and listened to her mother Hope explain something.

Ian's heart was racing, and he was doing his best to fight the grin that kept threatening to creep onto his face. When he walked into the room she didn't look the least bit surprised - she'd obviously known he would be coming - but she turned a pretty shade of pink, and gently smiled at him. He'd smiled back. The entire meeting he yearned to speak to her, to ask her how she was, to learn who she was, but he had to settle for brushes against her arm that sent sparks flying through his body, and briefly touching her hand when he handed her the pen she dropped on the floor mid-meeting.

He didn't believe in love at first sight, it made no sense. But this certainly wasn't platonic at first sight, either. He was enchanted by her, and he wanted to know more.

"Lunch has been served in the garden, your majesties," Hope declared, poised and graceful as ever. Ian noted the way his father's eyes were glued to her, a look of longing in them.

"It would make us very happy if you all joined us before making your ways back home," The queen placed an arm on her daughter's shoulder.

Ian was seated across the table from Amy, and as they ate he kept trying to catch her eye. Every time he did, she blushed a little bit more, and gave him a small smile before turning to converse with Sinead Starling who was on her right.

Goddammit, when would he get to speak to her? She was right in front of him, yet he could not address her openly and raise suspicions of their parents and neighboring kingdoms.

After lunch was eaten, dessert, tea, coffee, and wines were served, and everyone stood up and stretched their legs, engaging in polite chit chat.

Amy had planted herself on her favorite spot in the rose garden, next to Sinead, who she thought was really nice and interesting to talk to. The two discussed novels, plays, scientific research, and the policies that had been argued over in today's meeting.

"I'll be right back, I'm just going to get some more tea, would you like some?" Amy asked courteously, standing up and smoothing down her ruby red skirts.

"I'm alright thank you," Sinead said, "but I would love a scone!"

Amy nodded smilingly, and went down to the table. She placed a scone on a plate next to some jam and cream for Sinead, and began to pour herself some tea when-

"Hello, Princess," she heard a smooth, deep, voice declare in received pronunciation.

"Oh my god!" Amy whispered in surprise, spilling tea on her sleeve.

"Oh, shit, let me help you with that," Ian said, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently holding her wrist as he dabbed at the tea. "My apologies, I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that," he grinned, "I just really wanted to talk to you."

Amy tried to ignore the somersault her stomach did. She couldn't. She mustn't. "That's okay, your handkerchief saved the day," she said teasingly, pulling her wrist away.

"Here," he gave it to her, "your sleeve is still wet," he said, slipping his hands into pockets, cocking his head to the side.

"Thank you, your highness," she bowed her head, trying to maintain a level of formality. Fuck's sake.

"Call me Ian," he said, "and I notice you have lost your stutter!"

"Yes!" Amy laughed, "I guess I outgrew it, and good thing too, it was awful," Amy watched Ian take her cup, and pour tea into it.

"I don't know, I thought it was quite lovely," he shrugged, eyes twinkling as she held up the pot of sugar. "Sugar?"

"One, please," she felt the warmth in her cheeks, as he deftly dropped a cube into the tea.

"Milk?" He asked, and she nodded in response, observing how he poured a splash of milk into the tea and stirred it, placing the cup on a saucer.

"There you go, Amy, I can assure you it is the best cup of tea you will ever have," he chuckled, placing the saucer in front of her.

"Thank you for your service," she rolled her eyes, giggling as he fell into a deep, mocking bow. "Also I didn't say you could call me Amy!"

"My apologies, love, I should not have assumed," Ian smirked, taking a bite of an apple.

Amy scoffed in mock dismay, before taking a sip of her tea. "So, what did you think of today's meeting?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, the highlight was obviously getting to see you again," he said seriously, and she bit back a grin, "but I'm quite disappointed in my father's continued dismissal of the Cahill Treaty, if I'm being honest."

Amy was taken aback by his honesty, if she was being honest. She would never admit to disagreeing with one of her mother's policies in front of a stranger from another kingdom.

"I probably shouldn't have told you that, but I trust you, and it would be nice to have an actual, honest conversation with you," he said, framing it like some sort of proposition.

Amy hated that honest conversations weren't a prerequisite for the two of them. In politics, expressing how you really feel was a luxury. "I'd like that," Amy smiled, heart fluttering at the way he beamed back.

They talked for what seemed like five minutes but was probably almost an hour. "When did you stop stuttering, then?" Ian asked, refilling her tea cup.

"I don't know, I guess when I started to immerse myself in politics and work more closely with my mother," Amy rested her hand on her chin, Ian hanging on to her every word.

"She inspires me to be more confident, and I guess I just started to realize that there's nothing to be afraid of?" She shrugged, Ian nodding in agreement. "Words can't hurt you if you take control and don't let them," Amy said.

"Spoken like a ninety three year old grandmother," Ian exclaimed in mocking praise, as Amy playfully shoved him in the arm.

"No, I definitely agree with you," Ian said, returning from his bout of playfulness. "And you are definitely articulate and intelligent enough to have the upper hand in any conversation, my love," he sincerely explained, visibly blushing for the first time.

"Thanks," Amy said sheepishly, "that's really nice of you to say." My love? Oh my god she was going to melt into a gooey puddle all over the refreshments.

"Amy! There you are, I was wondering where you went!" Amy looked over her shoulder to see Sinead rushing over.

"Oh, Sinead, I'm so sorry, I had this scone for you and I just got really caught up here," Amy professed, sneaking a look at Ian who was gazing tenderly at her. Stupid Ian Kabra and his stupid handsome smirking face.

"Oh, don't worry about it silly," Sinead laughed, "but I was talking to Queen Hope, and she mentioned that you're courting Lord Jake Rosenbloom! Why didn't you tell me?" Sinead squealed, grabbing Amy's hands.

Amy's eyes darted to Ian, who's face had darkened. His eyes were full of hurt and surprise, he looked absolutely crestfallen, but in a flash he composed himself. He stood up quickly, bowed at the two ladies, and left.

"What's his deal?" Sinead remarked, raising her eyebrows, "anyway, Amy, I'm so happy for you, Lord Rosenbloom is a wonderful man!"

"Thank you, he really is," Amy mumbled, watching Ian's retreating form. They'd only met twice, it wasn't like she owed him anything. She didn't know who he was, for all she knew the easy conversation could've been a habit, he was probably a flirt. Maybe he was using her to get information about the Madrigal kingdom. Maybe he was engaged or seeing someone else. So why did she feel so shitty?

* * *

 _I actually feel like I might be...updating...too...quickly? Oh well, exam season is just around the corner and I probably won't find the time then, and I've been feeling super inspired the past few days! Right before bed I go on my phone and write as much as I feel like in my notes before I come back to it and fix it a couple days later. What are all of your writing processes like? Sorry this story's moving so slowly, it should definitely pick up the pace in a chapter or two, hang in there!_ _Let me know how you liked this chapter and please point out any errors!_ _Thank you for reading(, and I would definitely update eVEN FASTER if you left me a review) 3 3_


	4. Chapter 4: Surprises

Ian stared out the window of the coach at the lush groves of summer fruit and rolling verdant hills, everything dewy and clean from early morning showers. Yet his amber eyes were vacant and slightly glazed over, and his mind was racing faster than the purebred mares that pulled the coach closer to the Lucian Kingdom. He'd never felt this way. He was strangely empty, more so than usual, yet unable to think of anything other than the emptiness that consumed him.

Heartbreak?

At the same time, it was like a green monster had taken residence in his mind, roaring at the possibility of her with anyone else.

Jealousy. Something he never thought he would have to face.

Yet he knew he wasn't entitled to feel either of those emotions, not when he'd only spoken to her twice, the last time a year ago. She shouldn't have mattered to him this much, she didn't.

Fucking hell, who was he kidding? Just because he hadn't seen her in a year didn't mean he hadn't been thinking about her. She was the most intriguing, captivating, beautiful person he'd ever met, and dear lord it was unhealthy to feel this way about someone he barely knew, or to feel this way at all, but he did.

"Ian!"

Ian was snapped back into reality by his father, who wore a look of subtle disgruntlement on his refined features. Countless times people had told Ian that he was the spitting image of his father, and Ian was always pleased by the comparison. At forty years old, Vikram Kabra was tall and imposing, classically handsome, with age so far having left nothing more than a few wrinkles around the eyes and gray streaks in his otherwise jet black hair. Ian was glad to know that he would age well. But he didn't know if he wanted to be like Vikram in all ways.

"Yes, sir," Ian replied, sitting up straight, attempting to regain decorum after he had clearly not been listening to his father.

"Piece of gold for your thoughts?" Vikram asked with surprising patience, features arranging themselves in the closest thing Ian had ever seen to concern.

Piece of gold. An old family joke. Like a Kabra's thoughts could ever be worth any less. Ian paused, licking his lips to give himself time to design a convincing white lie. "I was just thinking about what I am going to do when we arrive at the palace."

Good, Ian.

Vikram nodded slowly, and Ian was certain he didn't believe his little cover-up. "And what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, probably go for a ride, maybe to the lake," Ian replied, realizing it might do him good to actually go on a ride. He needed to clear his head.

Vikram hesitated before he parted his lips to speak, but the coach halted and Ian heard the horses neighing in front. He peeked out the window to see the tall, ominous iron gates that guarded the Lucian kingdom, borders secured by a line of guards clad in red and gold as far as the eye could see. Upon realizing that the King had returned, the gatekeepers swung the gates open, and the coach slowly gathered speed once more as people parted for its passage through the cobbled streets.

Ian looked at his father expectantly, while Vikram in turn sat straighter, slightly uncomfortable. "Perhaps you might go on a ride later this evening, son," he suggested, the slightest indication of guilt on his face.

"But why?" pressed Ian, eyebrows drawn together in a puzzled frown.

Vikram paused.

Ian waited for him to answer, his sense of curiosity entangled with his growing concern.

"Oh look, we've arrived!" Vikram darted his chin towards the window to point out the grandeur of the Lucian palace, an ancient relic that had persevered through wars and time. It did help that Isabel Kabra had overseen various redecorating appointments to ensure that it was fashionably decorated and pristinely kept.

The golden turrets gleamed in the sunlight, which Ian shielded himself from with a hand over his squinted eyes as he stepped out of the coach, his father following closely behind. Two lines of servants flanked the father and son, curtseying and bowing in respect, Ian nodding politely in response while Vikram stared straight ahead. Isabel and Natalie stood at the gate of the palace, courteous smiles on their lips. Ian walked up the steps and accepted an icy cold kiss on the cheek from his mother.

"I am so glad you're back, darling, I have a surprise for you in the garden!" She cheerfully exclaimed, clasping her hands together.

Ian frowned as he bent down to give his sister a hug, a real one. He'd missed the pint-sized pest. She wrapped her arms around his much larger frame as Ian lifted her ever so slightly off the ground. "A surprise?" Ian whispered in her ear, already alarmed. It had been two minutes since he'd gotten home and his mother was already trying to ruin his day.

"You're going to hate it!" Natalie sang back, flashing her older brother an innocent smile as she mockingly batted her eyelashes.

As Vikram partook in the warm, well staged family reunion, Ian groaned. He was exhausted and absolutely famished from the journey, he needed a drink, and to make matters exponentially worse Princess Amy was still weighing on his mind.

"Come, come, my sweet boy," Isabel declared, clasping his forearm with her long, well groomed fingernails as she pulled him into the palace, Natalie and Vikram barely keeping up as she dragged him down the long foyer.

"Mother, please, I've just returned, and I am very tired-" Ian attempted before he was met with a glare that almost turned him to stone.

He heard Natalie snickering behind him as they descended the staircase that led to the rose garden, a sliver of the unthinkably large piece of land the Royal family resided upon. In the distance Ian could see their largest gazebo held four occupants, and thankfully a table laden with delicacies and beverages, some of them hopefully alcoholic.

As they neared the gazebo, Ian realized exactly what was happening, and Isabel resultantly tightened her grip on her son's newly tense arm.

"Behave," she hissed so only he could hear, before releasing his arm and proceeding towards their guests, arms spread in another carefully constructed display of warmth and hospitality.

"James!" Isabel greeted the beaming man, "oh, Debi Ann, it is so lovely to see you again!" Isabel kissed the woman on both cheeks.

 _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck. _No_. Not today.

"Ian, darling, this is Cara! Princess Cara Pierce," Isabel yanked Ian over to the tall, slim girl who observed him with intelligent, steely blue eyes. Straight blonde hair framed pretty, angular features that were arranged in a look of disinterest. At least that was mutual.

"Pleasure," Ian croaked, bowing the way he'd been all but trained to.

"The pleasure is all mine," she responded coldly, curtsying almost mechanically.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ian watched his father unsmilingly nod at Pierce in acknowledgement, before Isabel pushed Ian towards Cara's younger brother, the young Prince Galt, with whom he exchanged pleasantries.

"Please, everyone, sit, I'm sure you're all tired from the travel," Isabel gestured towards the table, tone oozing with faux concern.

Ian was naturally seated next to the Princess, and the two sat in an uncomfortable silence which Ian ate several pastries and sandwiches to fill.

"Wine?" He offered her at one point, just to be polite as he had filled his own glass.

"Please," she said dryly, and he filled her glass to the brim.

"Ian, why don't you take Cara on a little stroll to the lake?" Isabel stated, her suggestion clearly verbalized as a demand.

All eyes at the table flew to the awkward pair, Natalie concealing a giggle under her napkin as Ian offered Cara his arm and she hesitantly took it. As they walked towards the lake, backs to the gazebo, Cara loosened her grip on Ian's arm, which he eventually pulled away as the two walked side by side in silence.

"I hope the journey was not too bad," Ian offered, deciding that even small talk might be better than this awkwardness.

"Do we have to do this?" Cara groaned with a roll of her eyes, before folding her arms.

"I- _sorry_?" Ian asked, taken aback.

"Neither one of us wants to be here, you're clearly as disinterested in me as I am in you, so let's make this 'little stroll' quick before we return to our parents and lie about how much we like each other," Cara explained so casually, framing Isabel's phrase in air quotes, Ian almost laughed.

"I appreciate your honesty, and you are absolutely correct," Ian supplied, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in amusement. This was fate giving him a chance to forget about the red headed angel.

"Of course I am, so shut up, yes?" She asked, giving him a sarcastic smile similar to the one Natalie had perfected long ago.

"Oh, come now, the lake is actually quite nice, especially at sunset!" Ian teased, and he saw her hide a smile. He smirked. Girls had a hard time remaining disinterested when it came to Ian Kabra. Except Amy, apparently.

"I guess I shouldn't release my frustration upon a body of water, it's not the lake's fault I have to take a walk with you," Cara brushed her arm against his, her shoulders visibly loosening as she relaxed.

As the two walked towards the setting sun, Ian was surprised by Cara Pierce. And pleasantly so. He had yet to meet someone that was so...so...so much like _him_.

"Your mother makes you do that? Wait till you hear what my father makes me do!"

It was comforting to be understood, to be accepted, to be able to express himself without feeling the need to edit or censor. It was as if he was looking in a mirror. It was different from Amy. Amy was nothing like him, she was kind and sweet and every good in the world. With Amy he was fueled by a desire to learn about her, to understand her, to protect her even.

"Don't get me started on all of the things I would do if my parents weren't so controlling!"

Ian chuckled, grandly fanning his arm outwards to indicate the lake. "Voilà! Better than you expected, I hope," he joked, as she giggled, coyly meeting his gaze.

"Definitely better than I expected," she murmured, and Ian realized that she had moved closer to him than he would've liked. With Cara, it wasn't sparks and curiosity and unexplainable attraction. It wasn't turbulent. It was easy. It was comfortable. It made sense, even to him.

A kiss? Maybe a kiss would make him fall for Cara, maybe then the image of _her_ in a yellow dress, lashes lowered, red hair glinting in the sun, brow furrowed as she cleaned up the spilt tea on her sleeve, would finally burn away.

Ian lowered his head unsurely, and allowed Cara to close the gap between their lips. Her kisses were soft and very pleasant, but when she tugged at his upper lip, tracing it with her tongue, he pulled away graciously. Smiling, of course.

Nothing. It hadn't work.

She, however, smiled back up at him, so happy it was genuinely heartbreaking. He would keep trying, maybe he just needed to get to know her better?

"Shall we head back?" He asked, offering her his arm once more. Maybe in time, he would grow to love her?

"Lets do that," she agreed, this time accepting it readily.

* * *

"I'm dying, Amy."

The words her grandmother has shared with her hours ago still rung in Amy's ears as she toyed with the string of jade that hung over her collarbone.

"What?"

Amy absentmindedly flipped a page in the romance novel she was ploughing through, recalling how she had burst into tears upon utterance of the word.

She'd already been having a bad day because of _stupid_ Ian Kabra and his _stupid_ handsome face but he was far from her thoughts, which were currently occupied by her rock, her role model, her biggest supporter- her Grace.

"I was going to give this to you on your birthday, but it slipped my mind," Grace had said, placing a small velvet box in Amy's hands.

Amy had wordlessly opened it, pulling out her grandmother's jade necklace, a physical embodiment of the sense of adventure that had taken her to all corners of the world.

"Oh, Grace, but this is yours!" she had sighed, and ran her fingers over the smooth gemstones.

Amy placed her novel on the table, standing by the floor length window. She sighed once more.

"It's yours now, my Amy, may it serve you as well as it served me."

 _Served_. Grace was still here, Amy had thought it strange and very sad that Grace had used the word in its past tense. But she understood. It was Amy's time to face the challenges that came with ruling a kingdom, with fighting for peace.

Suddenly she felt what seemed like a wad of wet tissue paper hit her on the side of the head.

"Ow! Dan!" She cried, without questioning for a second that it wasn't him.

Her fourteen year old brother appeared from behind the doorway, growing taller by the day, wearing a dirty set of trousers and a mischievous grin to match.

"You look like you've been rolling in a pit of sand all day," she accused, fondly standing on the tips of her toes to muss up his golden brown curls. He might've been almost a foot taller than her but he was still her baby brother.

"And you look like you've been crying," Dan retorted, swatting away Amy's hand as the grin fell off her face.

Amy hesitated. Dan's eyes were brimming with concern, they were imploring her to share. _What's wrong?_ He asked her silently.

There were a thousand different ways she could've answered that question, but frankly she didn't feel like it. She unclasped Grace's necklace and slipped it into the pocket of her gown. There would be time tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and the thousands of days that would follow for her to thinking about what was wrong.

"Nothing, do you want to go catch fireflies at Nathaniel's Creek?" She asked, rolling up her sleeves.

Dan grinned at his older sister. "You bet I do."

* * *

okay, as someone who's been following the 39 clues since the first book came out and has grown up loving Amian it was heartbreaking when they decided to introduce Cara into the series as a love interest to Ian, so much so that I refuse to touch any of the books since mission Hindenburg (which I disappointedly skimmed). I WANT TO DIE THINKING THAT AMY ENDED UP WITH IAN AND ALL IS RIGJT IN THE WORLD! Nevertheless, I understand how Cara's introduction allowed Ian's character to develop at a point in the series when he was at his lowest, but I don't cARE, and this scene between Cara and Ian was so anNOYING to write I just wanted it to be over. Nevertheless please review and tell me what you thought! Love u all !


	5. Chapter 5: I don't like Blueberries!

_Just wanted to say that I apologize for my confusing writing in the last chapter, I don't think it was clear but the coach ride Vikram and Ian took was meant to be back from the Madrigal Kingdom after the big meeting where Ian and Amy talk and he spills tea on her and stuff! They're still about seventeen years old!_

* * *

"Look, Kat, it's the princess!"

Amy snuck a look over her shoulder, biting back a smile as she watched two little girls exchange excited whispers, gold paper crowns pinned to their locks as they pointed at her.

"She's so pretty! And I heard she's read all the books in the palace library!"

Amy laughed, waving at the overexcited pair, causing them to squeal and wave back. She was about to make her way over to them when she felt someone drape an arm around her waist.

"Jake!" She beamed as he swept her up into a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of pinewood. "Why didn't you tell me you'd be coming?"

Jake set Amy down as a surprisingly large but adoring crowd encircled them, fawning over the reunion between the beautiful princess and her handsome suitor, the kingdoms favorite trope. The blood rushed to Amy's cheeks as she noticed how many people had surrounded them, but Jake was unfazed.

"I've missed you so much, Amy," he murmured, thumbing her red gold locks, "and I wanted to surprise you!"

"It's good to see you," Amy smiled, slightly awkward as the crowd aww-ed. She loved her people, but she didn't like her relationship being at the center of their attention.

"And you," Jake replied, lacing his fingers through hers, planting a kiss atop her hand. "I'm famished! Will you accompany me on my quest to procure a blueberry cake?"

"I would be honored," Amy laughed, and the crowd respectfully parted, still sighing and whispering about the picturesque young couple as they walked past, nodding and smiling courteously.

While Jake approached a food stall, Amy stood underneath an oak tree, the sound of the gentle breeze rustling through heavy virescent leaves soothing alongside the lutes and trumpets that were being played in celebration. It was a monumental day in Cahill history, as four of the five kingdoms had officially ratified the Cahill Treaty and from henceforth would implement a series of social, economic, and political measures to promote peace, prosperity, and equality. The Madrigal kingdom was celebrating with a kingdom wide festival, with the palace grounds being transformed into a carnival. The fences that bordered the grounds had been draped in multicolored lights and banners, a vivid backdrop to the rides, games, and little stalls selling food, toys, and other little trinkets that had settled throughout the grounds. People young and old wandered about in their best clothes, laughing and talking, sipping lemonade and taking bites out of delicious pies and juicy fruit. Children wore crowns of daisies in their hair, laughing as they chased one another.

Amy loved it all. Ruling a kingdom came with its fair share of turbulence, but in the end it was comforting to think that hard work and difficult choices could lead to something so beautiful, so simple. People setting aside their differences and coming together to celebrate progress.

Jake returned, grasping two large, syrupy cakes in red napkins. "Here you go milady, one blueberry cake," Jake handed it to her, and she smiled back.

"Thanks, Jake," she said, taking a small bite, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the taste. She wasn't the hugest fan of blueberries, she was sure she'd told him before. As she watched him wolf down his own cake, she decided that it was the thought that counted.

"So how has training been? Is the general treating you well?" Amy inquired, noting the slight increase in the bulk of his arms since she'd last seen him a month ago.

"It's alright, it's actually quite therapeutic to fight, or at least learn how to," Jake responded, wiping his sticky fingers on his napkin.

"You can have the rest of mine, I'm really full," Amy handed him her almost untouched cake, and he took it readily.

"I just wish I had more time to focus on my historical studies," Jake said, "between training and writing to you I just never find the time when I'm on base!"

Amy forced a laugh at what she knew he meant as a joke. He definitely didn't mean that writing to her was a chore. "That's too bad, but the past is going to wait for you! Another month and you will have finished your training, won't you my lord?"

"Yes, you're right, I'll have all the time in the world to study," Jake dropped the napkins on the freshly mown green grass, and Amy watched the red tissue flutter to the ground. "Unless the kingdom goes to war that is," Jake joked, and as she knelt down to pick up Jake's litter Amy laughed - as if the Madrigal kingdom would ever go to war.

"Did I tell you that you're even more beautiful than I remembered?" Jake's tone lowered, smooth and sexual as he smirked at her.

Amy blushed. "Um, thank you, that's very kind of you to say, Jake," Amy mumbled, reluctantly meeting the intensity of his cobalt gaze with a look of unintented discomfort.

"Well, its true, you're so perfect, everything about you, your eyes, your lips, your mouth" Jake breathed, hands dropping to her hips, "your body."

Amy's hands shot outwards to catch his, and she slowly peeled them off her, holding them at elbows length, an awkward smile taking residence upon her features. Where was this coming from? She hadn't seen him in a month and before he'd even asked her how she'd been he'd chosen to compliment her on her physical appearance?

"Amy!"

Oh thank god, she thought, swirling around to answer the call with what one might argue was too much enthusiasm. Her mother was waving her over in the distance.

"My mother wants something, I'll see you in a little bit?" She smiled up at Jake, who arranged his ruggedly handsome features in a grin.

"I'll be waiting," he sang, and she made her way to Hope, who had a string of bluebells around her neck.

"Amy, Russ here wanted to give you something!" Hope gestured at a little dark haired boy who was smiling shyly up at Amy, clutching a wreath of daffodils.

"Hello, Russ!" Amy laughed, kneeling down to his height. "Are you having fun today?"

Russ nodded, rounded cheeks scarlet. He stuck an arm out, offering her the wreath.

"Are these for me!" She gasped in delight as he nodded. "Well thank you, sir, these are the prettiest flowers I've ever seen," she said, placing the crown of flowers on her head.

The little boy beamed up at her. "Do you want to p-p-play r-ring toss?" He asked in the softest voice she'd ever heard. Her heart melted, and she took his hand.

"I would love to!"

Amy found herself laughing, surrounded by children who kept pulling at her skirts and squabbling amongst one another about who got to hold her hand.

"It's the princess' turn, give the princess the ring!"

The woman who was managing the ring toss handed Amy a large yellow ring, which she threw at the stand a few feet ahead of her. The ring landed several paces away, and peals of laughter erupted amongst the children.

"That was awful!"

Amy looked over her shoulder to see Jake, blue eyes teasing her.

"I have many talents, ring toss unfortunately is not one of them," she shrugged.

"May I speak with you," Jake asked, his tone nervous as his eyes darted between her and the children.

"Oh, no! Princess, stay and play with us!"

She was having a really nice time with the children, and was about to ask Jake if he could wait when he said-

"Please, it can't wait."

Amy inwardly groaned, and turned to the kids. "I'll be back soon, okay? I just need to have a quick word with Jake!"

"Boo! Boo, Jake!"

Amy laughed, waving goodbye as Jake led her away, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Children are insufferable," Jake shuddered, flicking a leaf out of his hair.

"I love children!" Amy replied, as Jake tugged her behind some bushes. "Why are we here, is something wrong?" The leaves tickled her shoulders and slightly muffled the melodies of the lute from the carnival.

"No, no, on the contrary, everything's wonderful," Jake said reassuringly, taking

her hands in his, his lips quirking into an easy smile.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?" Amy asked, her tone uncharacteristically impatient as she raised her eyebrows in question.

Jake heaved a deep breath and laughed nervously. "Well," he started, his grip on her hands tightening. "I just...I wanted to tell you that you've quickly become one of the most important people in my life, Ames."

Amy smiled, touched. She parted her lips to thank him but he continued: "you're beautiful and brilliant and you've made me a better man," he got down on one knee, and the smile fell off Amy's face, the sounds of music and laughter in the background sounding as if they were occurring miles away.

"So, I just wanted to ask," Jake drew a platinum band attached to a sparkling diamond the size of a pigeon egg from his pocket, as his grin widened.

"Will you marry me?"

* * *

"Gentlemen, we are entering challenging times," the wrinkly old lord began, banging a shriveled up fist on his podium.

One hundred and nine other equally wrinkly old ministers murmured amongst themselves in agreement, and Ian rolled his eyes, a groan of exasperation escaping his lips as he watched his father roll his eyes.

"The four other kingdoms have formed an alliance! Against us! This Cahill Treaty could be our demise!"

Ian coughed into his hand, choking back laughter. Why were they so many stupid men in his father's court? Ian drowned out the sounds of poor political debate as he thought about how he would make adjustments to the court when he was king.

There would be voting, and lots of it. And women would have to be given seats, it made no sense not to involve them. He would have to deal with the old, conservative elites somehow, maybe through-

"The coronation of Princess Amy Cahill of the Madrigal Kingdom will occur in almost a year!"

Ian's ears perked up and grew alert and straightened his posture at the mention of her name, leaning slightly forward to grasp the topic of discussion.

"We must make an attack on the Madrigal kingdom before then! We cannot trust these alien kingdoms to remain at peace with us because we have not adopted their new, foolish ways! We must preserve our sovereignty!"

Shouts of agreement rang across the room as the court burst into applause, Ian's heart beginning to race in anxiety. Well, it didn't matter what these old buffoons thought, his father was the sovereign, it would all come down to his word and Ian knew that Vikram wouldn't support an attack on the kingdoms of the woman he seemed to love. He watched his father observe the court silently, before slowly drawing his own hands together in clearly forced applause, saving face.

Well, _fuck_.

* * *

I hope you liked this chapter! The next one is my favorite so far so stay tuned (knowing me that'll be in like 3 days tops lmao, when I have a chapter written I can't seem to wait to post it!). This story is just one big gooey cliche but I LOVE A GOOD CLICHE and I hope you guys do too! Thank you for the reviews, please keep them coming!


	6. Chapter 6: Can you stutter in a letter?

_Jake heaved a deep breath and laughed nervously. "Well," he started, his grip on her hands tightening. "I just...I wanted to tell you that you've quickly become one of the most important people in my life, Ames."_

 _Amy smiled, touched. She parted her lips to thank him but he continued: "you're beautiful and brilliant and you've made me a better man," he got down on one knee, and the smile fell off Amy's face, the sounds of music and laughter in the background sounding as if they were occurring miles away._

 _"So, I just wanted to ask," Jake drew a platinum band attached to a sparkling diamond the size of a pigeon egg from his pocket, as his grin widened._

 _"Will you marry me?"_

Amy realized her jaw was on the floor and hastily picked it up as she clasped her hands together in discomfort, attempting to regain some composure.

"I-I-I-," she stuttered, immediately closing her mouth. It was better to be silent than to stutter.

She focused on Jake's hopeful expression. Hopeful? It was more...confident. Like he didn't expect her to say no. Amy just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, heck, even a little thunderstorm or something would do.

"Amy?" Jake said gently, his smile faltering ever so slightly. "You alright, baby? You look pale," the lord slowly rose, the concern evident on his face as he reached his arms out as if ready to catch her if she fainted.

"I'm fine, Jake, thank you for-" Amy smoothed down her mint green skirt, and calmly started to formulate a reply.

"You sure, you don't need to sit down for a second?" Jake took her by the hand, his tone colored with doubt.

"I'm fine!" Amy proclaimed with obvious frustration, a sentiment Jake had clearly never seen her express as his widened in surprise.

"Anyway, I'm very flattered by your proposal, my Lord," Amy said gracefully, heaving a sigh as she paused in her sentence, "but I have to decline it, sir."

This time Jake's jaw fell to the ground, the ring falling out of his hand, landing softly on the grass without a sound.

"What! Why?" the handsome lord inquired incredulously, while Amy remained commendably dignified.

"Jake, firstly I am _seventeen years old_ ," Amy smiled, "I am still grappling with the challenges of adulthood, and I'm not ready to commit to anyone, nor do I have to, sir, this is no longer a kingdom where women have to depend on men and marriage for meaning in our lives!" Amy spoke like a queen, shoulders back, eyes gentle but stern, and voice firm and commanding.

"I'm only nineteen, Amy, and we could definitely wait a year or two!" Jake wildly declared, pacing back and forth, eyes desperate. "Or three, or ten, depending on how much time you need! I'll wait for you, princess!"

"No, Jake, it's not just that," Amy sighed, "I'm not in love with you, and I certainly don't think I ever will be," Amy apologetically held his hands, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"There just isn't a spark." She shrugged apologetically, drawing her hands back. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, but I do value the relationship we've had."

"I feel a spark, _you_ just don't know it yet, you just need to wait," Jake took a step towards Amy while she in turn stepped back.

"Amy, please, don't do this, I love you," his mule headed declaration did not send butterflies fluttering through her stomach or fireworks shooting in her ears. Rather, it made her uncomfortable and slightly repulsed.

"I'm sorry, Jake, but I don't feel the same way," Amy curtseyed, "it's been a pleasure, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the festival."

Amy darted out of the bushes before she had to construct one more tedious response to another deeply exaggerated proclamation of affection. Holding her skirts up to her knees, she realized that she didn't want to hide away as she usually would have been instincted to after a confrontation such as this one. Oddly enough, she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. _Freedom_. She was fine, she was better off for what she had just done. Amy felt empowered as she strode through the garden on a quest to find her mother, who she conveniently spotted laughing alongside her grandmother.

"Mom, Grace!" She yelled, making an unseemly beeline for the two confused matriarchs.

"Amy, no need to yell, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Grace chuckled at her granddaughters wide eyes, rosy cheeks and slightly disheveled hair.

"Sorry," Amy panted, leaning over after her short run. "But I just ended my courtship with Lord Jake!"

"Oh, good, I never liked that one," Grace took a sip of her wine, while Hope wore a look of surprise at her mother's nonchalance.

"Mom!" Hope scolded, before turning to Amy, jade orbs identical to her daughter's brewing with worry. "I'm so sorry, my baby, are you okay?"

Hope pulled Amy into a hug, which she momentarily accepted before wriggling out of. "No, no, I'm fantastic!" Amy grinned, clapping her hands together.

Grace and Hope exchanged a distressed look. "Amy, it's okay to be upset, dear," Hope slowly explained, rubbing Amy's back.

"Mom!" Amy rolled her eyes, "I'm really okay, I never thought he was 'the one', and he was kind of a douche anyway-"

"Amy, language!"

"Sorry, mom," Amy mumbled between her story, under her mother's stern gaze, "but when he asked me to marry him-"

"He asked you to marry him!" Grace laughed, "that boy has only been seeing you for what, three, four months?"

"You declined a proposal?" Hope asked.

"Yes, and honestly I declined it like a champ, if I say so myself," Amy bit her lip in modest pleasure, before she was enveloped in hugs and peppered with kisses by her mother and grandmother.

"We are so proud of you, sweetie," Hope smiled, "being able to have a difficult conversation like the one you just had is hard, even for me, and I'm forty!"

Amy laughed, and Grace rolled her eyes. "That's cute, darling, but talk to me when you hit sixty two!"

Amy spent the rest of her day with her family and with her people, laughing at a butt hurt Jake from a distance with her little brother, playing ring toss with the children, and picking flowers.

She was exhausted by nightfall, and while most Madrigals her age continued to celebrate under the light of the moon, Amy had retired to her chambers for the night. But she wasn't ready to sleep yet. Her fingers travelled across an ornate, hand painted map of the Cahill peninsula, as she thumbed the bejeweled serpents in the red and gold Lucian crest, before running her finger up in a line from the Lucian Kingdom to the Madrigal Kingdom. It wasn't terribly far, a days journey on horseback, maybe three or four on foot.

Amy took a seat at her desk, a sigh escaping her lips as she picked up her favorite quill pen. It was purple, her mother's favorite color, and a gift from her as well. She stared at the quill in her hand, which was quivering slightly as it hovered over a sheet of blank parchment. Was she going to do this? Could she do this?

Amy rose, and retreated to her balcony, enjoying the cool breeze in her hair as she looked up at the moon. A view she had shared with _him_ during their first meeting. He invaded her thoughts with alarming regularity, his manners, his smile, the air of mystery and quiet sadness that surrounded him. It was unhealthy to feel this way about a stranger. Should she not write him, then, and choose to ignore what she was feeling? Oh Madeline, no, just the thought of not writing him disappointed her. Amy considering banging her head against the banister before she decided a mere groan was enough to express her dilemma.

The princess sat down at their writing table once more, and dipped her purple quill in ink of the same color, teeth digging into her lower lip as the ink soaked into the page, immortalizing her thoughts.

 _'Dear Ian...'_ she started, heart racing.

* * *

The word 'surprised' did not remotely encompass the magnitude of surprise Ian Kabra felt when Bickerduff slipped an envelope sealed with the Madrigal crest into his pocket. Ian felt like doing a jig or giving all servants a raise as he stood before his window, the widest grin on his face as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He held the lines of purple writing to the light.

 _Dear Ian,_

 _I hope you don't think it's strange that I'm writing to you, and I do apologize for sending this letter under such hushed pretenses - I don't wish for our correspondence to be subject to the scrutiny of our parents, or parliament, or anyone, really. Pardon my forwardness, sir! I've only spoken to you twice, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and my curiosity has gotten the best of me. I'd like to be friends, if it isn't too much to ask. If I don't at least make an effort to get to know you I feel as though I will regret it._

 _You looked upset with me when Princess Sinead mentioned that I was courting Lord Jake Rosenbloom! Would it be rude of me to propose that you were perhaps jealous? Well, guess who's proposal of marriage I rejected today? It was an easy, quick decision, and I didn't stutter! Okay, maybe a little._

 _I just realized how strange it is to write a letter to someone you don't really know. Do I ask you about something in your life, do I need to provide you with writing prompts for your reply? Oh goodness, will you reply? I hope you do! I don't have anything in particular to say to you, yet, I guess this letter serves as more of an invitation to establish a dialogue between the Lucian and Madrigal kingdoms. Yes, this is diplomacy, sir!_

 _Speaking of diplomacy, today was a lovely day, we had a kingdom wide festival in celebration of the ratification of the Cahill Treaty! I love festivals, it's so exciting to see how we can all come together and disregard our quarrels in the name of political progress. Right before he tried to marry me, Jake did buy me a blueberry cake though, which was probably the lowest point of my day: I HATE blueberries!_

 _What about you? How was your day? How are you? I apologize, I'm rambling, in short I would love to hear from you. I would love to hear anything at all from you, you could write to me about window moldings, for all I care! I hope you are doing well, and that you write back soon!_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Amy Cahill_

As Ian lowered the letter, he realized his cheeks hurt from how hard he was smiling. So it was mutual!

"Fuck yes!" He yelled, pumping his fist in the air. He might've looked ridiculous but no one was here to judge, he couldn't care less, he was ecstatic, absolutely over the moon.

He hastily drew the chair of his desk, and prepared to write her back, spilling half a pot of ink in his excitement. As a string of colorful curses escaped his lips, he darted up to find something to soak up the ink, ultimately using one of his shirts. If he was thinking clearly he would've probably called for Bickerduff and he certainly wouldn't have sacrificed one of his shirts for the cause, but he had more important things on his mind.

He frantically wrote a reply, his chicken scrawl messier than usual.

 _Dearest Amy,_

 _Hearing from you is the best thing that has happened to me in a while, and I would very much like to be friends. I don't mean to make you uneasy, but you are also on my mind almost constantly, I don't know what it is about you that fascinates me so, but hopefully I can find out through these letters!_

 _Did I wear my disappointment so obviously? I did not intend to, my princess, but you are correct in assuming I was jealous. Very much so, in fact, I think I've made it quite clear that I would've liked to be in Lord Rosenbloom's position. I am sorry to hear that you are no longer seeing him, I hope you aren't upset because you certainly shouldn't be: you are incredible and witty and beautiful and any man would be lucky to be in your affections. I must selfishly admit, however, that I am pleased by Rosenbloom's departure from your life, particularly if it means you will be free to become a part of mine. And it is a shame a stutter cannot be conveyed through writing for I would love to hear it once more!_

 _Well, I suppose it can be awkward at first to write to someone you do not know, but I enjoy the opportunity to edit my thoughts so you will hopefully think I am intelligent! If we are speaking of diplomacy, I must tell you about my own recent experiences in courtship. My parents are forcing me to look for a bride already, and they have introduced me to Princess Cara Pierce of the Founders Kingdom. She was nice and interesting, but I'm afraid I very much prefer redheads. Not to mention, seventeen is far too young to make a lifelong commitment to anybody, wouldn't you agree?_

 _Your festival sounds wonderful, but Rosenbloom sounds like a fellow foolish indeed, you were smart to have declined his proposal. I do wish the Lucian kingdom would have a kingdom wide celebration of some sort. Then again, we have a long way to go in terms of progress before the entire kingdom can come together to celebrate anything as one. While the prospect of ruling a kingdom someday can be unnerving, I have to say that I'm grateful that someday I will have the opportunity to instigate real change, and perhaps work alongside and learn from you? How do you feel about becoming queen in a year?_

 _Thank you for writing me, and I will eagerly be awaiting your response, my love. Now I must call a servant to clean the pot of ink I spilled in excitement upon receiving your letter!_

 _Yours,_

 _Ian_

Ian placed the letter in an envelope, allowed the red wax to drip over the opening before he pressed his seal into it. He left the room to look for Bickerduff, whom he found speaking with a stable boy.

"Off with you!" He rudely shooed the stable boy away, who nervously scampered off. "Bickerduff, how did you receive the letter you gave me earlier?"

"Well, your highness, an anonymous courier on horseback gave it to me at the servants entrance, and told me to have it delivered straight to you," Bickerduff bowed, dignified in his dark suit.

"If I gave you a letter I wanted delivered to the Madrigal princess without anyone knowing, could you have it done?" Ian asked, holding up his freshly sealed letter.

Bickerduff took the letter and slipped it into his breast pocket, smiling. "That can be arranged, my prince."

* * *

LONGEST CHAPTER YET FAM! I hope you liked that, I found writing the letters quite awkward to write because all the Amian I've ever written has involved quick, witty back-and-forth banter between the two, letters are weird. Let me know what you think is going to happen next, I love hearing your predictions! See you in like 48 hours when I crack as always and post the next chapter ! Thank you for reading, and please leave me a review (it makes mY DAY I swear)!


	7. Chapter 7: Secrets

"Hi, Uncle Fiske!" Amy greeted, sweet as honey, clasping her hands behind her back as she approached him, yellow skirts swishing around her ankles in her haste.

Fiske was Grace's brother, and he oversaw security operations within the palace. He was often away training young knights, but when he was in the palace he clanked about in his grand armor and might've helped his niece sneak in and out a or two to the Lucian Kingdom.

The older man had his nose in the air as he looked down at Amy, the exasperation apparent in his worn features. "Hello, Amy," he responded.

"Lovely day we're having, don't you think?" She beamed, batting her lashes in faux girlish innocence.

"Yes, yes, fine day, here's your letter," Fiske grumbled, handing Amy a scarlet envelope which she took immediately, gasping in delight.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, love you Uncle Fiske," she picked him on the cheek, and waved ready to retreat into her room for the highlight of her day.

"You're welcome, dear, but Amy?" Fiske called, raising his eyebrows.

The princess paused, concerned by the seriousness of his tone as she turned to face him, wide-eyed.

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

Amy gulped, offering him a nod of assurance before she shrugged off the feelings of unease Fiske's 'advice' had stirred in her. When she reached her room she squealed and threw herself onto her freshly made bed as she couldn't help but do every time he wrote back.

It had been almost two months since she'd sent him that lengthy first letter. This was, what, the twentieth or twenty first letter he'd sent her, and as she tore the now familiar Lucian seal and unfolded the piece of parchment, she leaned back on the headboard of her bed, biting back her smile.

 _My love, Amy,_

 _I've been spending a lot of time in parliament with my father, and I'm growing concerned. You see, I've suspected something for a while, but I didn't wish to worry you needlessly, Amy. Most of my father's court sees the united effort of the other kingdoms to ratify the Cahill Treaty as a threat to the security of the Lucian kingdom. Also, they are astonishingly stupid - what qualifies one to participate in Lucian parliament is being rich, titled, and male - no one other than my father has a mind for politics, and even he is subject to the tyranny of the majority._

 _They want to attack the Madrigal kingdom. I don't know when and if they will follow through with a detailed plan, but it's been brought up frequently, and murmurs of agreement always follow it's mention. War is unforgiving and unsustainable, as a politician I say it is foolish for the Lucian kingdom to swing around its dick because it feels left out and threatened by a treaty it opted out of signing itself, a treaty that promotes peace. And as someone who can't keep a certain Madrigal princess off his mind, the prospect of you being in any danger angers and worries me, more than I'd like it to, to be honest, love. While at the moment declaring war seems to be merely theoretical, if it becomes a more tangible possibility I will do what I can to stop it._

 _I'm sorry for the grim news, but I thought you should know. How are you? I would love to see you again, writing to you is wonderful, but being able to speak to you again would be surreal. Tell me something good so I may take my mind off this!_

 _Yours always,_

 _Ian_

Amy put the letter down, a hand on her racing heart. She was used to feeling like she had just run up a hill after reading one of Ian's letters. She felt alive and excited, reading to climb a mountain with a reasonable slope, but this time it was different. Anxiety had overtaken her senses. What was she to do with such information?

Amy rose, walking across the room as she slowly grasped the door handle. She should tell her mother, this was crucial political knowledge. But telling her mother would mean she would have to expose her budding relationship with Ian to her family, the guards, the parliament, possible everyone.

She read the letter once more, eyes scanning Ian's barely legible chicken scrawl with learned ease, a less experienced reader of Ian's handwriting would've struggled. _While at the moment declaring war seems to be merely theoretical..._

Amy's brow was furrowed, fists slightly clenched in concentration. War was always a possibility with the Lucian kingdom, technically this was nothing new to her. Telling her mother would lead to less fixation on the hypothetical information, and would only highlight her correspondence with Ian.

For now, Amy would keep it a secret.

* * *

"Do you like it?" Cara twirled in a crimson dress that was made in a Lucian fashion, made of locally valued silk, exposing the shoulders and the skirt being form fitting rather than puffy over layers of corsets. "Your mother had it made for me!"

Ian smiled, absentmindedly nodding as he leaned again the doorframe, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bickerduff holding a white envelope. It had been over a week since he'd written to Amy, normally she would have responded by now. He couldn't help but worry. Was she alright? Or had he said something wrong?

"Does that mean you like it?" Cara's expectant face suddenly appeared a few inches away from his own, causing him to instinctively pull away.

"Yes, it looks very nice on you," he said approvingly as she looked at him almost suspiciously.

"Glad you think so, because I hate it," Cara rolled her eyes, and Ian laughed. "I'm too skinny for a dress like this," she raised her arms awkwardly, indicating towards herself. "Also I just hate dresses."

"Fair enough," Ian chuckled, his gaze shifting down the hall once more.

Cara observed his handsome profile quizzically. "Don't you love purple, pear shaped cows?"

"Yeah," Ian replied, his mind clearly elsewhere as he stared off into the distance.

His failure of her little test caused Cara to frown in confusion, and she touched his arm gently. "What are you thinking about, Ian?"

The prince was jolted out of his pensiveness by her touch, and he met her clear blue eyes, which were clouded with concern.

"Pardon?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, expressing embarrassment at being caught in his disinterest.

"You clearly have something on your mind," Cara sighed, "what is it?"

"What, no, I'm just a little tired today, I was up late last night," Ian forced a yawn, hoping she would leave him be.

"Why?" She inquired, turning around and gesturing at her waist, indicating for him to unlace the back of her dress.

 _I was busy rereading every word the girl I'm falling for has written me._ "Reading, lots of reading," he said with practiced nonchalance, deftly unlacing the red ribbons at her back.

"Funny, I've never seen you read a book around me before!" Cara challenged, disappearing behind her screen to change.

"Yes, well, I like to read on my own time, not when I could be speaking to you instead," Ian confidently retorted.

Cara appeared from behind the screen in the simple cream colored dress she'd been wearing earlier.

"You're such a fucking liar, Ian," with a roll of her eyes, Cara leaned against the doorframe opposite of him.

Ian was silent as he appraised her accusatory expression, chin jutted out, eyebrows raised, arms folded. Fucking hell, why did she press him on every little thing?

"Oh come on, are you hiding a secret lover from me, now?" Cara chuckled. Her grin faded as Ian's eyes widened, lips parting momentarily before he closed them again.

"Of course not!" Ian scoffed, meeting her gaze. He was making eye contact, maybe too much eye contact with her. God, those eyes, so vividly gold and framed by dark lashes, so soulful and mysterious, yet they always betrayed the secrets the rest of his face managed to keep.

"Ian," Cara started, fair skin paling as her lower lip quivered slightly. "It's fine if there's someone else, I'd just appreciate not being lied to."

Ian heaved a sigh. "Cara, there is nobody else, my parents want me to be with you-"

"I thought you wanted to be with me," Cara pointed out, eyes downcast.

"Of course I want to be with you," Ian said almost too quickly, reaching out a hand as if to cup her cheek. She smacked it away, cheeks scarlet in embarrassment.

"I'm not stupid, Ian," Cara blinked back tears, and Ian felt guilt nipping at his thoughts. "In fact, I'm beautiful, intelligent, and a princess, and I have a line of suitors out the door, so if I'm wasting my time with you, I would like to know," the blonde turned away from the brunet, wiping away a stray tear, cursing under her breath for showing weakness before a man that did not love her.

Ian paused, before standing up straight, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry, Cara," he shook his head, "you're right."

Cara gave him a tender smile, heaving a heavy sigh. "That's okay, Ian, I think I always suspected something," Cara tilted her head to the side questioningly.

"I'm sorry, but you are a dear friend, you always will be," Ian squeezed her hands gently, returning her smile with one of his own, a genuine one. He meant what he said.

"So, tell me about her, then, Cara planted herself on her bed in the guest bedroom of the Lucian palace she was currently staying in.

"I don't think that's the best idea," Ian mumbled, his own cheeks reddening at the thought of Amy. He was also taken aback by Cara's discomforting calmness, and he didn't trust that she was as fine as she said she was. How had she gone from tearing up to smiling in a matter of seconds?

"Oh, please, hearing about the girl you like isn't going to do anything but entertain me!" Cara shrugged, and Ian paused.

"I really don't feel comfortable talking about this, Cara," Ian explained, "in fact, I'd understand if you don't want to speak to me for a while."

"Nonsense, Ian, we're friends, and if I could see you happy, that would be enough," Cara smiled gently, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

Ian slowly sat down. "Well, I've only spoken to her twice, but we've been writing to each other for over two months now," Ian's eyes softened and the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards. "She used to have a stutter, but she doesn't anymore, she loves to read, she's read more than a scholar five times her age would have, I swear, and she's so soft spoken and quiet but at the same time she's strong and brave and says the things that need to be said, and she has these beautiful, beautiful green eyes that look like a piece of jade held up to the sun," Ian exclaimed breathlessly, "and I don't know, it's hard to explain why, but there's just _something_ about her that I can't explain."

Cara gazed at Ian, wistfully, touching his shoulder as she stood up. "I'm glad you've found someone that makes you happy, and I hope it all works out for you," Cara murmured, brushing her lips against Ian's cheek.

Ian rose, giving her hand a squeeze. "Thank you," he replied.

* * *

"He's falling in love with someone else," Cara whispered. Isabel's blood ran cold as she watched the young princess weep into her hands, trying to calm herself with measured breaths in and out.

"Did he say who?" Isabel inquired, clasping her hands on the desk in front of her as she leaned in.

"He didn't give me a name," Cara sobbed, "but he said they've only met twice, and they've been writing to each other for a couple months now, and that she has green eyes?"

 _Green eyes_ , Isabel thought, narrowing her own eyes. It had been twenty years, but the Cahill women continued to be a thorn at her side.

* * *

The plot thickens! Let me know what you think in the reviews, and thank you all so much for your encouragement and advice, it means so much to me that people actually read this!


	8. Chapter 8: The Queen's Penmanship

Isabel watched her son at the dinner table, taking note of the way he used his fork to push all of his potatoes to one side of the plate, and how he'd stacked all of his roast beef on the other side.

"Excuse me, Ian, am I missing something or are you still an eight year old boy who plays with his food?" Isabel remarked, her tone as cold as ice as she lifted a bite to her lips.

"My apologies, mother, I'm just not very hungry tonight," Ian rested his fork by his plate, and poured himself a goblet of wine.

"Easy on that, son," Vikram said, hypocritically taking a swig of his own half empty goblet.

"Weren't you the one that dumped Cara, why are you being such a sulky baby about it," Natalie pointed at Ian accusatorially with her fork, eyebrows raised. Isabel wished Ian was being a 'silly baby', as her daughter so eloquently put it, because of Cara Pierce. She was certain that it was because Amy hadn't written him in three weeks. Isabel smirked. Or so he thought.

Vikram gave Natalie a stern look, as Ian shook off her critique and downed the entire cup of wine before rising.

"May I be excused?" Ian all but demanded, expectantly thrumming his fingers on the table, tone bleeding impatience.

Isabel looked at her husband for an answer, and he nodded.

Ian bowed his head in respect, and paced down the grand dining room, making a beeline for the door.

The remaining Kabras finished their meal in a cold silence that was only interrupted by the clinks of ornate cutlery.

After dinner Isabel walked down the grounds to where the servants quarters were, and she knocked on a door.

Bickerduff emerged, the man's usually stoic features displaying some semblance of fear at the sight of the haughty queen.

"You will bring this to Prince Ian in two hours time," Isabel ordered, handing him a cream colored envelope with the Madrigal seal.

Bickerduff's widened eyes were glued to the woman's outstretched hand, and Isabel could almost hear the inner turmoil in the man's head. Loyalty to Ian, his beloved master, or being disgracefully dismissed from the palace and offending the Crown? Isabel saw it as an easy choice, but maybe the man was mentally incapable in some way, as most peasants seemed to be.

"Did you not hear what I said?" Isabel thrust her hand forward. "Take it. Two hours."

Bickerduff reached a quivering hand and accepted the expertly forged letter, blinking back tears as he thought of how much pain it would bring the the boy. When the queen had come to him weeks ago as he'd been about to deliver the princess' letter, and intercepted it to discover her son's correspondence with whom she saw as the enemy, she had silently retreated to her quarters. Bickerduff had hoped that Amy would send another letter in question to Ian's silence, and the boy would have a shred of happiness to cling to within the emotional dungeon that was his home. But clearly he had underestimated the queen's despicability.

"Thank you, Bickerduff, you will be allowed to remain at the palace," Isabel stated in monotony, "but if I ever catch you betraying the Lucian kingdom ever again, you will not be allowed to remain alive."

Bickerduff bowed, "yes, my Queen."

With a flounce of her skirts, Isabel turned away and walked back towards the palace. Her children were still foolish and weak, and despite the years of care and wisdom she had bestowed on the pair, they were still soft at the core. She needed to be more careful, and ensure that they were not distracted from the goal: bringing glory to the Kabra name. And the Lucians, naturally. Isabel needed to make sure the future Kimg of the Lucian Kingdom was not a "silly baby".

She sighed. It was difficult work, but someone had to do it. What would the kingdom do without her?

* * *

HELLO my darlings! I'm sorry I haven't been updating every five minutes like I was before, I'm in the thick of finals week! Just had my politics exam (which was SO shit), and my two law exams are right around the corner please send ya girl good vibes so she passes :))))) sorry for this short chapter, I really don't have time to write between all the sleeping and studying (and crying into my books) but I promise after December 19th I'll be back with more quality content! Love you all, and please leave reviews!


	9. Chapter 9: Different Narratives

Five leaders, all upholders of the monarchy and protectors of their realms but separated by distance and ideology, stood in the throne rooms of their respective palaces as they heard the same distressing piece of news.

"There has been a disturbance at the Tomas-Lucian border, but It's difficult to say exactly what happened," Fiske began, unravelling a piece of parchment as he wore a look which was only surpassed in graveness by the redheaded queen's, who tapped her purple quill on the gold armrest of her throne.

"The Tomas guard provoked one of our own men," Irina Spasky, the head of intelligence, informed Vikram. He heaved a sigh, fingers massaging his temples in blatant frustration as his queen stood by his side, a dainty hand on his shoulder in some semblance of reassurance as her features were arranged in what one might call graceful disinterest.

"So the Lucian guard challenged the Tomas guard to a duel? To the death? Over a petty nationalist quarrel? Is that correct?" Queen Denise her spectacles further up her nose, composed while the contrastingly nervous correspondent nodded in agreement.

"Well?" Cora barked, eyes blazing, "what happened next?"

"Our man killed the Lucian, easy, but the Lucian had been provoking him!" Paul Elder deviated from the report he had been reading to Eisenhower to explain his stance, to which Eisenhower responded with a nod. Naturally.

"But what does this mean for our kingdom?" Cora demanded, voicing exactly what five monarchs had on their mind.

A day later, Hope and Eisenhower sat across from each other at the Tomas King's desk, heads bent over the letter of apology Eisenhower had reluctantly drafted with Hope's insistence and assistance.

"This is a goddamn infringement of our sovereignty, those Lucian dogs were the ones who started this!" Eisenhower grumbled, dripping the blue wax over the closed envelope.

"Don't call them 'dogs', Eisenhower, and it was one person, a border guard," Hope diplomatically offered, watching the bulky man press the Tomas seal into the hot wax. "We will not have a war over a little argument between two men, I will not allow it!" Hope ran a finger over the hardened wax that sealed the fate of the rickety peace the Cahill peninsula had upheld thus far.

"I know, I know, but Vikram didn't even sign the treaty, I have half a mind to send my armies into their kingdom for not issuing me an apology, first," the Tomas king, handed the letter to a messenger, who bowed in respect before accepting the document that promised to repair the fragmented relations between the Lucian and Tomas kingdoms.

"The pen is mightier than the sword, you know," Hope smiled knowingly.

"Yes, a fat lot of good a pen would have done my guard as another man tried to cut him in half with a sword," Eisenhower snorted, "not all problems can be solved with words".

"I know, Eisenhower, but look at the fact that you are willing to use words as proof of the Tomas kingdom's development," Hope took a sip of the mulled wine in her goblet, "this might show the Lucian kingdom that they are still stuck very far in the past".

"I guess," Eisenhower groaned, fists clenched, a vein at his temple throbbing. "I really hope you're right about this, Hope," the Tomas King raised his eyebrows, leaning back in his seat.

"Me too, Eisenhower."

* * *

Ian Kabra liked a nightcap.

When he was a little boy, he and his sister would huddle underneath the covers with mugs of sweet drinking chocolate as their nanny told them exciting stories about princesses and goblins and dragons in a hushed voice, so that Isabel wouldn't hear and reprimand her.

Now, a young man, he would sit at his writing desk by himself and read less exciting stories about the creation of the modern banking system as he swirled imported whisky in a glass, the sensation of the burning liquid on the back of his throat becoming gradually less apparent as his thoughts swirled together and his mind clouded, making it impossible for him to focus on the fascinating history of loans. Impossible to hide from his own thoughts, but easier to unravel them, as questions and insecurities seemed to unfold behind his eyes, vivid like an oil painting.

He was a fucking idiot to think that Amy Cahill, the beautiful angel, would want anything to do with him. How foolish he had been to think that their correspondence was anything more than an extension of her kind, diplomatic nature, time-wasting Madrigal frivolity. He had stupidly sent her another letter after his last one was followed by a heartbreaking response, and she hadn't replied as he should've expected.

He pulled the stack of yellowing, crinkled parchment underneath a book on ancient legal codes, and almost growled as his eyes scanned the insultingly brief farewell.

 _Ian,_

 _I have been rethinking our communication for a while now, and I am writing to say that I don't want to hear from you ever again. At first it was exciting, but the more I've gotten to know you, the more I've realized that we are completely different people. And I've gleaned this from nothing more than mere letter writing! Other than my appearance and the insubstantial information I have given you about myself, what do you even really know about me? I apologize if I gave you the impression that I was acting on anything more than mere curiosity, but the truth is that speaking to you has become stressful and burdensome. Please do not write to me anymore. I hope we can maintain a professional relationship and I wish you luck as the future leader of the Lucian Kingdom._

 _Regards,_

 _Amy_

Ian could recite the seven sentences seamlessly from memory with the ease of an actor performing an emotionally charged scene of Shakespeare. He had pored through every distancing word, considered every premise of her argument, and he couldn't understand it at all. At first he had considered that perhaps this was a sick, uncharacteristic joke on her part, maybe she had gone mad? Or perhaps someone had forged the letter. He had even asked Bickerduff, but the man was stone-faced as he had sworn that the letter had come straight from the Madrigal courier he knew, and his trusted servant would not lie to him. And it was her handwriting, the sloping h's, the curved g's, the inky dots on every 'i'.

As much as he wanted to respect her decision, he couldn't agree with her reasoning. Maybe he didn't know her as well as he should have, considering his feelings for her, but he was getting to, and with every letter he grew more captivated. And they were definitely different and their families posed an impediment to a romantic relationship between them, but Ian had never learned more or been more fascinated by a person, he had never agreed to or even considered an opinion that coincided with his own to be valid until he had met her. And someday, they would be Queen and King, and they would make the rules, they would hold the reigns of their futures in their own hands. But bloody hell, was it all so complex to her? Was he alone in feeling the sparks, the pauses in time, the breathlessness, the wooziness when he looked at her, when he spoke to her, when he traced the beautiful lines of penmanship that she had written for him? He had written this in a letter, his longest yet, pages explaining his feelings with logic and humiliating sincerity for a Kabra. It had been weeks and the letter had gone unanswered.

Ian Kabra was a man of reason, a man of cost versus benefits, but all of that had melted away after she had invaded his carefully constructed fortress of cynicism with her goddamn smile like summer sunshine and those fucking green eyes that had pierced his heart and haunted his thoughts. Fucking Amy Cahill. She had ruined him with seven stupid sentences. She had proven him right, that acting contrary to self interest was foolish. When parliament was in session tomorrow and he sat at his father's side and the wrinkly old bastards decided to go to war with the Tomas over a goddamn pissing contest between two common men, he would suppress every concern for her safety, push away the want for peace that had began to bud after her letters had started to come. He was a pure blooded Lucian, a Kabra, and the King. _He_ was the future of the kingdom, and the future would not be compromised because of a minor inconvenience.

* * *

HELLO and we are back I'm really sorry for the huge delay. I've been binging the office and napping at an alarming rate since exams have been over, but I hope everyone's having the happiest of holidays! I was feeling super uninspired for a few days but then lightning seemed to strike and I wrote this chapter quite fervently so I apologize if its kind of poorly written lmao. I know the letter excerpts have been really formal, but I think I'm just trying to reflect the refinery and and stiffness of speech at the time? (even though I definitely don't in the conversations its just fun to be all downton abbey for a bit hahaha.) Also I know Ian has been super ooc, but I always liked to think when reading the 39 clues that he was kind of like a confused, kind of sensitive teenage boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders but he had managed to develop this sly, charming, cynical exterior that sort of fooled everyone, even himself most of the time. Its less sexy to think of Ian this way, I know, and I think most stories in the fandom portray Ian as super sly and snakey and its really hot and I like writing stories like that too, but I personally find it so interesting to explore the grey zone between who he really is and who he's trying to be, and how Amy has played a role in his shifting values. I guess thats why this story is getting a little harder to write, because I don't focus on the narrative as much as I do on inner dialogue and character development, so now that the narrative is actually picking up with the threat of war and stuff its harder for me to do a good job explaining everything. Anyway, thank u as always for reading this word vomit-esque story it really does mean a lot, and it would brighten my day if you left me a review!


	10. Chapter 10: Queen Amy?

"Okay, why are you being even more of a dweeb that usual?"

Amy flinched in surprise, her head jerking upward before she relaxed back into her seat realizing it was only her doofus of a brother.

"What are you talking about?" She demanded, voice slightly fainter than usual, eyes brimming with an emotion Dan couldn't exactly discern.

"You've been reading in your room by yourself all week," Dan pointed out, closing the door behind him and leaning on his sister's massive dresser.

"So?" Amy raised an eyebrow, "I do that all the time," she closed the leather bound volume she had been poring through and placed it on the table, crossing her arms in a defiant motion.

"True, I forgot you were a hermit," Dan grinned, narrowly missing the hairbrush Amy aimed at his forehead. "You just seem sad, dude," he said, uncharacteristically gentle as he perched himself on the corner of Amy's bed.

Amy paused. "I don't know what you mean, Dan, I'm sorry if I don't seem like I'm in a good mood or something, but I mean, I-I'm fine," A flurry of denial poured out of Amy's mouth, but she closed it the instant a stutter escaped.

"Is this because of the mysterious letters Uncle Fiske is having delivered for you?" Dan asked slowly, tone accusatory, gaze unwavering from his sister's telling face.

Amy failed to contain her surprise as her mouth popped open, eyes widening. "I-what-how did you know about those?" Amy had always known that her brother's playful nature and tendency to find trouble was accompanied with the brightest intellect, but she also knew him to have a one track mind. Clearly she had underestimated how observant he was.

"Tell me who they're from or I'll tell mom and dad," Dan lowered his voice, leaning forward clearly ready to hear his sisters secret.

"It's none of your business, dweeb, now leave me alone," she kicked him lightly on the shin, fingers grazing the spine of her book. "I'm busy."

Dan slowly rose, and walked towards the door, placing his hand on the doorknob. "Okay, I guess I'm just going to go tell mom that you're sending secret letters to someone," Dan sang over his shoulder, shrugging his shoulders.

"Wait!" Amy blurted, on her feet. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you, oh my god!" Why was her little brother such a pain in the ass.

Dan flashed her an angelic smile, before leaning on the door, raising his eyebrows in wait for an answer. "Well?"

"I'll tell you but you have to swear not to tell anyone, alright?" Amy groaned, head in her hands.

Dan nodded expectantly, tapping his foot in anticipation as Amy looked up. "So, Ian Kabra and I have been writing letters back and forth for a few months-" Amy started.

"WHAT!" Dan interrupted in surprise. "You've been talking to that creep?"

"I know, I just thought we had something, there was a spark, and I wanted to not be a coward for once in my life and actually go for what I wanted," Amy bit her lip, and Dan's eyes softened.

"Well, he's a snake, and I know you're really ugly but you can do better than him, Amy," Dan teased, and Amy's lips quirked into a reluctant smile.

"Well, he hasn't written me back in weeks, so I think I'm going to have to, anyway," Amy blinked back tears, "I don't know what I did wrong, I even wrote him another letter in case the last one got lost or something!"

Dan watched Amy wipe away a tear that she had clearly been working hard to contain, and he squatted down next to the love seat she was sitting on.

"I don't know what his deal is, but he's a huge dick, and you're way better off without him in your life," Dan said, smiling gently.

"Thanks, Danny," she grinned, eyes glistening. "I just feel like such a fool for letting me feel like this, you know?"

"Yeah," Dan patted her on the back. "But you're not a fool, you're the smartest person I know, so stop letting him get to you."

Amy blinked her tears away and nodded, feigning a sense of ease and comfort. She appreciated her brother's words, and she wanted to take them to heart, but she couldn't. Ian Kabra had wrapped his fingers around her insides with every sweet word and mischievous grin, and he'd managed to yank them out by simply never speaking to her again.

Amy had read about heartbreak from the points of views of different characters in all her favorite romance novels, but she had yet to experience it herself until she met _him._

She sighed and waved at her brother as he left the room, the thud of the door punctuating the end of the slight solace Dan's presence had brought her.

Amy Cahill was going to be Queen. She was a fighter, a leader, an apt politician. She couldn't go on this way, shattering into a million pieces just because a boy didn't write her back. Yet, it would be untrue to dismiss him as a mere boy, he had turned her life upside down by just meeting her gaze. There was something unexplainable between them, but they both felt it. Or at least, Amy had.

Amy was about to read Ian's letters one more time, when there was a knock at her door. Shit. She hoped her nose wasn't all red from crying.

"Come in!" She called, and the door swung open a crack, Nellie's cherry colored head popping out.

"Hey, kiddo, your parents are down in your mom's study and they're asking for you," she said, her usually unwavering sense of cheer seeming slightly translucent as she spoke a smidgen too fast.

Amy frowned. What could it be? "Thanks, Nellie, I'll be down in a second," she replied, rising and smoothing down her dress. As Nellie closed the door, Amy splashed some water on her face in the bathroom, and ran a hairbrush through her hair. Her parents didn't need to know that the Lucian Prince had ensnared her in his trap.

The door to the study was slightly ajar, and Amy pushed it open to immediately feel suffocated by the tension that clouded the room. Her parents, Grace, and Fiske were huddled around the desk, and they looked up when she entered, faces grave.

"What's happened?" Amy asked, voice clear and face composed. Her back was straight, and she commanded the room like a queen as she approached the desk to see a letter.

She almost snorted. Written correspondence seemed to dictate every aspect of her life at the moment.

"Vikram and Isabel did not accept Eisenhower's apology and they have doubled their troops at the border," Arthur started, sighing.

"Eisenhower responded by tripling his guards, and Vikram saw this as a hostile motion," Fiske explained, "we just received word a few minutes ago that the two kingdoms have begun to commit armed attacks against each other."

"Have you made the order to send in peacekeeping forces?" Amy asked her mother, who exchanged a look with her father.

"Amy, you are going to serve as Queen in less than a year, a few months," Hope took her daughter's hand in her own. "This conflict will be yours to handle, and so we think it is only reasonable that you make the decisions that pertain to it."

"Me?" Amy asked, disbelieving. She didn't know what else to say.

"We're all here to help you, and you must obviously sit with parliament, but you are to be the sovereign in a few months, and we don't want to make choices that will affect your reign negatively," Grace said gently.

Amy nodded. Her heart was racing. She held the future of the Cahill peninsula in her hands, and it was overwhelming. But she wasn't scared.

"So what are we going to do, your Majesty?" Fiske asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly. The four adults waited with bated breath as the seventeen year old looked from one of them to the other, features wrought in concentration.

"We are going to firstly send peacekeeping troops, we can't undo the fact that they have gone to war, but we can protect innocents of both sides from harm," Amy declared, and Fiske nodded.

"I think you should press for a meeting with the monarchs, arbitrate a discussion on the regulations of this war, ensure that no war crimes or other injustices are committed," Amy told her mother, "if there is to be a war the least we can do is ensure it is just."

Amy scanned the letter on the table. "Mom, you also need to speak with Queen Denise and Cora, make sure they don't take sides and stay uninvolved, we need to limit the scope of this conflict, we can't have kingdoms fighting one another in a chain reaction," Amy instructed.

Hope nodded and smiled. "At once, my Queen."

* * *

HELLO everyone! I want to thank you all for the love and support this story is getting, it mkes me so happy to hear that people actually enjoy this and you're all so wonderful and inspiring. So from this chapter on I'm going to start responding to reviewers! These are the people that reviewed chapter 9:

MlleEtincelle: this is so cute it made me laugh! Hells yes girl we are back, and I'm glad you liked that bit, I was wondering about when I would slip it in! Thank you for your continuous support you're amazing!

KingGuest: thank you so much you're so sweet! I'm trying to update as fast as I can, but I feel less inspired because this part of the story is so not fluffy. Yesss stay tuned for some Amian fluff, there will be some in a couple chapters!

Some Person: thank you! I'm glad you like the story, and I'll try to update as fast as I can for you haha!

Flora411: this is so nice thank you so much! It's such a pleasure to share this story with you and hear what you have to say! I shouldn't give anything away but Amy and will definitely be reunited in the next couple chapters! I'm so excited for you to read them!

Thank you guys for reviewing chapter 9! Let me know what you think about this one!


	11. Chapter 11: A New Era

Ian's coronation would always remain a blur in his mind.

He woke up the morning of his eighteenth birthday with the familiar throbbing sensation in his head that would follow when he went to sleep after drinking spirits. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he sat upright. This was the last morning he would wake up Prince Ian, for tomorrow he would begin to have to wake up at six in the morning to sit at Parliament. He groaned, head in his hands. The Lucian Kingdom was facing some of its most tumultuous times due to the rash decisions made by his parents and the old men at Parliament, and _he_ would have to clean it up. The Tomas and the Lucians had been at war for months, and the Janus had ended up siding with the Tomas, while th Ekaterina fought the Tomas without explicitly lending the Lucian Kingdom any support. There had been a draft, economic decline, and a natural spike in the mortality rate accompanied by a drop in the fertility rate. Petty crimes were at an all time high; it had never been a better time to be a lawyer or judge. And to boot, Natalie had called him an 'alcoholic' yesterday, which he definitely was not.

He just liked a drink or two every morning. And afternoon. And evening. To help with the weight of his overbearing responsibilities as a Kabra and as a royal.

Ian dressed in the regal crimson velvets and furs, nursing a flask of whisky, as he stood at the top of the staircase looking down upon the throne room. A sea of unfeeling eyes gazed up at him, mostly belonging to Lucian Lords and Ladies and other high ranking officials. He could make out his parents and sister as they were stood next to the throne. A look of pride rested on his father's tired features, while his mother smiled with expertly feigned warmth. Natalie looked nervous, but Ian could see a wan smile on her face.

 _Here goes nothing_ , he thought, slipping his flask into the folds of his tunic as the orchestra began to play. He made his way down like he had practiced countless times as his mother barked criticisms at him in the background. He took slow, measured steps down to his future, to his responsibilities, and away from his freedom.

The room seemed to blur and all the speeches sounded muffled as he felt the crown being placed on his head. As he sat on his father's throne — his throne — he heard applause. This was it. He was King.

The festivities began, and he made rounds as he always did, greeting this Lord, sharing a forced laugh with that Duke, taking bites of hor d'oeuvres. When the evening began to wind to a close, he stood before the attendees, who went silent. The new King was going to make a speech.

Ian cleared his throat. "I am grateful all of you are here today with my family to celebrate this moment in Lucian history," he started, voice clear and commanding. "With my reign I will promise you justice and peace," Ian said, glancing at his mother who wore a look of distaste at his words, "but most importantly it will my duty and honor to bring glory to the Lucians!"

Ian reveled in the applause and whistles that crowded the room. He smirked. He needed to say so little to make them happy. As long as he said what they wanted to hear, of course.

"The first thing I would like to do as King is have the guards escort my parents and sister out of the palace," Ian stated, watching the look of surprise bloom on his father's face. "My parents have failed to uphold our legacy, and they will be less of a distraction at our estate near the river." The crowd applauded and Ian looked away as the guards pulled his family out of the room.

"Ian! You insolent boy, have you gone mad?" his mother screeched in earshot.

"Let me go, let me go, you bastard!" Natalie screamed.

"Don't be rough with them, guards, just take them to the estate," Ian said, eyes downcast as his family was pulled across the room and the doors swung open, signifying their removal. Ian scanned the faces of the nobility. Most of them looked pleased with his decision, as he had known they would. He smiled.

"Glory to the Lucians!" He declared, holding up his glass.

"Glory to the Lucians!" the crowd responded enthusiastically. "Long live the King Ian! King Ian the Ruthless!"

Ian downed his drink. It was the dawn of a new era.

* * *

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, hours after her own coronation, Queen Amy Cahill sat on what was now her throne. The candlelight illuminated her porcelain skin, as she lamented over her new responsibilities. The faint sound of music and laughter could be heard through the walls, as people celebrated her reign on the grounds. But Amy was not in the mood to celebrate. No, she had work to do.

She sucked in a breath as she lay a sheet of parchment on her broad armrest, and dipped her quill pen in purple ink. She needed to step up and be a Madrigal and finally bring peace back to the realms.

 _Dear King Ian,_

 _I hope you are in good health, and I wish you congratulations you on your coronation. I am writing to invite you to the Madrigal Kingdom at your earliest leisure to discuss the war that has ravaged our Peninsula. We might have had our differences in the past, but it is now our duty to ensure there is peace between kingdoms. I hope to hear from you soon._

 _Best regards,_

 _Queen Amy Cahill of the Madrigals_

Amy rose quickly, before stumbling underneath the weight of the jeweled crown. She groaned at its weight on her head, but she couldn't take it off and just leave it here, lest it was stolen. Teetering underneath the crown, which bore into her skull, she sealed the letter. She would put aside her murky feeling for Ian Kabra for her kingdom. But she wondered, would he?

* * *

Ian sat alone in the dining hall, pouring himself his fourth glass of wine. It had been two days since his coronation, and he was exhausted. He had watched six hangings today, and had sat in Parliament for four hours and signed a decree that authorized the military to loot the homes of innocent citizens if the soldiers were in need of food or supplies.

Keeping the people happy was easy. He needed to rule with an iron fist, show no mercy towards anyone that stepped out of line. The nobility ate it up, and the Kabra legacy was secured. Easy. He didn't know what his father had always been whining about. And yet he did, as a conversation about peace with a certain redheaded princess gnawed at the back of his mind. Regardless, he enjoyed being king so far. He was drunk out of his goddamn mind, to the point where his thoughts and words blended together like the colors in a sunset, so that was nice.

"Your Majesty, a letter has arrived for you," Bickerduff bowed, holding out a familiar cream colored envelope.

Ian's eyes widened, and he hated the way the breath seemed to exit his lungs. "Thank you, Bickerduff," he slurred absentmindedly, staring at the envelope on the table. It had his name on it. And he would know that handwriting anywhere. His fingers grazed the black seal, tracing the indented 'C'.

He groaned. Not again, not bloody again. He couldn't go through this again. With a heavy heart, he leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table as he slowly unfolded the letter. He drank in every word, reading the letter seven or eight times, his intoxication making it difficult for him to understand what it was saying. All he could think of was the fact that Amy had written him. Amy wanted to see him. Amy.

"Bickerduff!" He yelled, letting the letter flutter to the floor. He heard his servant scuttle into the room, and closed his eyes, a set of sparkling jade orbs flashing in his mind.

"Yes, my King," Bickerduff said, his words sounding warbled to Ian's ears, as if Bickerduff were under water.

Ian emptied the contents of his goblet into his mouth, feeling the alcohol trickle down his throat.

"Summon Irina Spasky immediately. I want her to bring me Amy Cahill."

* * *

hello my loves! oK NOW THE STORY FINALLY GETS GOOD thank you KingGuest, MlleEtincelle, and Guest for your reviews! Alas Amy and Ian did not meet this chapter but wE ARE GETTING THERE! Thank you for staying with this story while it moves super super slow! Leave me a review and tell me what you think!


	12. Chapter 12: This Mess

Amy adjusted the crown that rested atop her auburn curls with a quiet grumble as she stood up to leave the room. It was the end of her first session in parliament, and for all of the worrying and nail biting she had done in nervous anticipation, she had, for the lack of a better phrase, kicked ass. Tomorrow six peacekeeping missions would be dispatched to the war zone, and a committee had been formed to establish a peaceful buffer zone. The budget for weapons had been further lowered to be funneled into the public schooling system, and apparently there was a steady increase in the domestic produce of the Madrigal Kingdom.

 _All in a day's work_ , Amy chuckled inwardly. As the roomful of ministers, all older, wiser, and more experienced than her, began to applaud, Amy was snapped out of her thoughts. A blush crawled across her cheeks and her ears grew warm. She grinned, before bowing her head gracefully and exiting the hall, closely followed by Fiske. The sound of hard work and contentment still rung in her ears. It was absolutely thrilling. The Queen removed the crown from her head, looping it through her wrist. Her day was over and now she wasn't Queen Amy, no, she was just Amy, and she was going to read a book.

"Your carriage should arrive in front of parliament in a few minutes, Amy," he said, a hand on his sword hilt as he was approached by a knight. "I have to overlook the peacekeeping missions, so I will see you back at the palace".

"Thanks, Uncle Fiske," she called over her shoulder, descending the staircase between the marble pillars of the grand building. She watched a horse-drawn carriage pull up to the entrance, enshrouded in the night. Amy wore a look of muted surprise. That had certainly been quicker than "a few minutes". The guard hopped off the front and bowed, opening the door for her. He was tall and muscular, with an almost admirably bushy mustache.

Amy frowned. She surveyed the vehicle, an ornate contraption of dark wood lined with red velvet seats, pulled by two elegant black mares. She didn't recognize the vehicle, nor did she recognize the guard, nor the wispy blonde coachman.

"Excuse me, sir, but this is not my regular carriage," Amy began, taking a step back, suspicion creeping into her thoughts as she noticed the scarlet edges of the guard's breastplate. "You must be awaiting someone else".

Amy spun on her heels to run back into the palace for her uncle, but unfortunately Lady Luck did not in that moment grant her grace or agility, and Amy slipped on the train of her navy blue gown, and felt herself falling. Her eyes instinctively fluttered shut as she awaited the impact of marble against her forehead, she was confused when it never came. Instead, she felt strong hands grip her by the wrists, and was about to scream under the mustachioed stranger's sinister blue stare, before she felt a damp cloth pressed to her mouth. A foreign scent invaded her nose and a woozy sensation overcame her. Dark spots filled her vision as Amy felt her consciousness evaporate.

The intruder glanced over his shoulder to see the four Madrigal guards he had gagged and tied to one another peering at him from behind a pillar. _Madrigals were so trusting it rendered them inept_ , he thought with a chuckle. The large man lifted up the Madrigal Queen carefully. As he placed her in the carriage, the golden serpents on the hilt of his sword glinted in the moonlight.

* * *

"Gone! What do you mean she's gone?" Hope roared, hands whipping against her desk in a proclamation of anger. The fire in her tone was betrayed by the green of her eyes, which brimmed with fear.

"I watched her leave parliament, and I assumed she had taken her carriage home," Fiske wrung his hands together, eyes downcast, "but when I was about to leave, a couple hours later, I found her carriage still waiting there".

"Oh god, oh my god, Arthur," Hope mumbled, fingers trembling as they grappled for her husband's hands. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple, his face twice as pale as his wife's and wrought with concern.

"I have a feeling she's fine," Grace raised her eyebrows, blue eyes glinting intelligently as her brother, daughter, and son-in-law met her gaze with their own bewildered ones. "For all we know, she's run off on a secret mission".

"A secret mission!" Hope shrieked, tears filling her eyes, "the guards were _tied up_ , her carriage is still here, as is her horse, and all of her things, and she's gone without a trace! What are you talking about, mom?"

"That's how I would've done it," Grace smirked, pouring herself a drink. "I'm worried about her too, but I know she's fine, wherever she is."

"Mom, Amy isn't daring like you," Hope sighed, head in her hands, "she would never run off like this, something bad must've happened to her".

"Daring like me?" Grace scoffed, "Amy is twice as daring as I ever was or will be, don't you doubt her, Hope," the older woman scolded.

"I don't care if she's brave or not, she's my baby girl and she might be in danger," the former Queen whimpered, blinking away tears, as Grace reassuringly placed her wrinkled hand on top of her daughter's.

"She's a Cahill, and a Madrigal at that. She is fine, Hope. I know she is."

* * *

Ian awoke to a sharp rap on the door of what was formerly his father's office. His head snapped up from where it had been resting, atop a pile of books and a couple of Amy's letters. His head throbbed, regret coursing through his veins, his tongue dry and metallic. His hair was an absolute mess, and he was half-dressed in an unbuttoned white shirt. Feeling and looking like this, it was easy for Ian to say that he would never drink again. But then a few hours would pass and his thoughts would start to pile up like paperwork, dark and dense, and relief seemed to lie only at the bottom of a bottle.

"What!" he barked at the door, massaging his temples with his fingers in an effort to subside the discomfort.

Bickerduff slowly opened the doors with a low bow, and placed a large glass goblet of water before Ian. It had become customary for Bickerduff to do this every morning, and Ian never said it aloud but he wasn't sure where he would be without his trusty servant. Ian gratefully raised the glass to his lips, watching Bickerduff open the heavy velvet curtains with a swift flick of his wrists, causing Ian to hiss and recoil almost like a disgruntled cat.

"Irina's men have returned," Bickerduff stated, clearing his throat as he began to place the bottles and goblets that littered the room on a silver tray.

 _Irina's men? What?_ "From where?" Ian inquired, eyes darkening, "I did not request an extraction mission of any kind".

Bickerduff met Ian's gaze disbelievingly, betraying his usual air of dignified indifference. Ian frowned as he was visually examined. Bickerduff was making him feel stupid with his probing gaze. "Am I missing something, Bickerduff?"

Bickerduff placed the silver tray on Ian's desk, clasping his hands together with a slow sigh, eyes lowered."Your Majesty," he began, before licking his lips, causing Ian to squirm with impatience, "you demanded Irina Spasky bring you Amy Cahill, completely unharmed, through any means possible".

Ian's heart fell to the pit of his stomach. He thought he was going to be sick. "Amy Cahill?" he rasped, reaching for a half empty bottle of brandy. He had no recollection of making the order. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. What had he done? _Ian, you drunken idiot_ , he thought, before Bickerduff startled him by grabbing the bottle of brandy before Ian could and placing it on his tray.

"It might be a good idea to sober up and make yourself presentable, sire," Bickerduff murmured, glasses clinking as he tidied, a look of concern crossing his worn face. "Alcohol got you into this mess, and it's certainly not going to get you out of it," Bickerduff mumbled under his breath, punctuating his gentle accusation with a slam of the door that jolted our hungover hero to the core.

Ian shot out of his seat in a panic, pacing the floor with a restlessness that only Amy could seem to summon. Amy. She was _here_. She was in his palace. Moments away from him. What would he say to her? What would she say to him? Ian slowly lowered himself back into his seat, his head racing almost as fast as his heart. With a groan, the weight of what he had done sunk in. He had essentially ordered the kidnap of the Madrigal Queen. His actions could lead to war, and he needed to fix his mistake. Parliament didn't know he had the Madrigal Queen in his palace, and it needed to stay that way.

Ian opened one of his desk drawers to find a flask of _something_ bitter and alcoholic. As he raised the flask to his mouth, the putrid scent attacking his nostrils, Bickerduff's words seemed to ring in his ears while Amy's face flashed in his mind, green eyes so curious and innocent yet overflowing with all the wisdom in the world. _Alcohol got you into this mess, and it's certainly not going to get you out of it_.

Ian put the flask back inside his drawer.

* * *

The world seemed to spin as Amy groggily sat up in unfamiliar surroundings, awakening from her drug induced slumber. As the room came into focus, panic settled in. Where _the hell_ was she?

She ran her fingers down the soft cream colored cotton sheets on the four poster bed she was laying on, crawling to its foot to draw back the sheer white curtains. It was a big bedroom, bigger than her bedroom back home. An enormous dresser stood on her right, while an ugly carpet that was so obviously there because it was expensive clung to the marble floor. Opposite her bed was the door. Various amenities were tucked into the corners of the room, including a dressing table, love chairs and a couch, an empty bookshelf, a grandfather clock, and a bedside table holding a vase of red roses. Dethroned. The tastefully, albeit slightly ostentatiously decorated room held traces of cream, marble and gold, and was bathed in light from the enormous floor length window on the left. The window!

Amy hopped out of her bed, grimacing as she felt a dull ache in her arms and legs from being sedentary for so long. She ran to the window, placing her hands on the cold surface, breath fogging the glass. It was light outside, but the sky was murky with rain clouds, which showered drops that splattered against Amy's window. She was several stories above a clear blue lake, outlined by a dark forest that seemed to never end. She looked for a handle or some means to open the window, but she found none. The view outside afforded Amy no new knowledge of where she was, and she cursed her limited knowledge of trees.

Her eyes flew to the face of the clock, which read eleven o' clock. Slowly, Amy made her way to the clock, looking up at its intricately designed face. The two hands were two marble snakes, one slightly longer than the other. Amy's blood ran cold.

No. There was no way. No _reason_.

Suddenly, Amy's ears were pierced by the click of the door. Amy flew around, breath haggard as her eyes followed the swing of the door. All the breath left her lungs. She was paralyzed. The blood rushed to her cheeks as her eyes met _his_ once more.

"Hello, Amy".

Amy Cahill was a fearless leader, a Queen, but right now she was a freaking deer at the barrel of a hunter's gun.

Ian Kabra leaned against the door, every kind of devastatingly handsome. Her eyes traced his tall frame, encased in a grey suit that fit him perfectly, hugging his broad shoulders and defined arms, unbuttoned collar teasing the panes of cappuccino skin underneath. Dark hair fell into dreamy golden eyes that captivated her (her second time today), and she almost groaned as he teasingly cocked his head. Who had a jawline so defined? Who had lips so perfect?

"You're a psychopath," Amy blurted, wide eyed as she watched Ian takes measured steps towards her, while she backed herself into the frame of her door.

She watched his jaw drop at her comment, before he quickly picked it up. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. Amy noted how different he looked. He definitely looked older, he filled out his suit better, and was far taller than when she had last seen him. But he also looked tired, his eyes were red and framed by bags, and she couldn't place her finger on exactly what it was, but something about the air that surrounded him was just so different now. So much more muted.

"Look, I'm really sorry about this mess but there's been a mistake," Ian began, tone dripping with unsureness, hands in his pockets as he met her eyes. Amy felt a bolt of lightning shoot through her body at his gaze.

"Can you _please_ elaborate on 'this mess'?" Amy demanded, air quotes sweeping into folded arms as she begrudgingly maintained an angry front. Something about him just made it so hard to stay furious.

"I might have accidentally ordered your kidnapping," Ian gulped, as it was Amy's turn to drop her jaw to the floor, eyes widening incredulously. Ian parted his lips to continue his explanation as he heeded Amy's expression of bewildered confusion, but he stopped as Amy lifted a finger.

" _You_ _ordered_ _my_ _kidnapping_? Are you trying to start a goddamn _war_ , Ian?" The Madrigal Queen asked through gritted teeth, balling her hands into fists. She couldn't help the pinpricks of heartbreak she felt in the moment. His silence had spoken volumes when he stopped writing to her, but it was hard to think that all those things he'd said to her, about wanting her to be safe and happy, were completely untrue, and that he would actually go out of his way to put her in danger.

"Please let me explain," Ian attempted to reassure her, taking a seat at the corner of her bed and patting the spot next to him invitingly. Amy lifted an eyebrow, defiantly maintaining her stance as she awaited his response.

As his hopeful expression diminished, the King sat up. "I had a drink too many," he explained slowly, handsome features stoic, "I don't have any recollection of actually demanding your kidnapping, but I must've had some diplomatic reasoning in the moment".

Amy was shocked. As she drank him in, it was like someone had held him up at a different angle. The slightly bloodshot eyes, the faintly tousled hair, the tired demeanor. Amy held in a gasp.

Was Ian Kabra a drunk?

As she processed this possibility, she cleared her throat, slowly lowering herself down to the spot next to him. "Did you get my letter?"

Ian's head snapped up. "What letter?" he breathed, startling her with his eagerness. Amy wished she could stop her heart from fluttering.

"The letter I sent you about arranging a meeting at the Madrigal Kingdom," Amy said slowly, watching his eyes cloud with confusion before some sort of realization clicked into his brain. "I sent it to you right after I was coronated".

"Yes, I remember reading it," Ian nodded, voice unwaveringly confident.

"You didn't read it," Amy snorted, with a roll of her eyes.

"I probably did, I just don't remember," Ian smiled sheepishly, a new kind of vulnerability in his confession. "But I really do apologize for this entire ordeal, and I have a carriage waiting to take you home when you feel rested and ready to make the journey back".

Amy cocked her head to the side, an idea blooming in her head. "I accept your apology," she said courteously, "but maybe it would be productive if instead of leaving so soon I stayed for a few days?"

"Stayed?" Ian murmured, and Amy watched the corners of his mouth lift as he uttered the word.

"Only if it works with your schedule, of course," Amy added, "I just thought that it might be more productive for me to stay and discuss diplomatic matters with you, if I'm already here". Amy felt her cheeks grow warm under the intensity of his gaze. How was it that even in the face of a huge mistake, war, and apparently alcoholism, Ian Kabra managed to be unshakably collected and debonair? Even when he apologized for an accidental _kidnapping_ he seemed to hold the upper hand.

"I don't think I have time for diplomacy at the moment," Ian declared, and Amy blanched at his refusal.

"Ian, might I remind you that you _kidnapped_ me, if anyone needs to reevaluate their means of statesmanship, its you," Amy said with uncharacteristic frost in her tone. She watched Ian furrow his brow at the insult, his mouth setting into a grimace.

"Excuse me? You dare step into my kingdom and insult my rule?" Ian growled, rising from his seat to glare at Amy, who glared right back.

"Step in? I was dragged here against my will by _you_ , and you don't even remember making the order," Amy scoffed, "not to mention your kingdom started the _stupidest_ war in Cahill history and destroyed decades of carefully maintained peace, so yes I will insult your rule". Amy watched Ian's eyes darken as he gazed at her. She had never seen him so furious.

"If you let me stay, we can talk it through and look for solutions that would benefit the whole peninsula," Amy coaxed, rising and taking a step closer to the raging royal. She gently placed a hand on his arm, and watched his features soften ever so slightly.

"You're not alone, Ian," she murmured, lips quirking into a smile, eyes earnest. Ian pulled his arm away with a deep breath, causing Amy to flinch in surprise. There was that prickling feeling again. Holy crap, it hurt.

"Fine," Ian spat, "you can stay, and we can talk, but don't expect me to do what you say".

"That's all I ask," Amy said with a soft smile. It might've seemed like he knew what he was doing and that he had everything under control but it was clear that he didn't. He would never admit it, but he needed help. And even though it hurt to look at him, she would stay here to help. For her kingdom, of course. (Not for his sake, no, never for his sake.)

* * *

heLLO EVERYONE ! im so sorry it took me a while to get to writing this, I've been busy enjoying life to the fullest before class starts again in two days (ugh). Also I changed my penname because I love a good inner corner highlight lmao. But yes OOOOOOOH our star crossed lovers unite! exciting! hp and mlleetincelle, you guys were right in assuming Ian's drinking is an issue! And I'm not going to say anything about Natalie or Ian's family, but stay tuned to find out! As for why the kids start ruling at 18, I mainly made that choice because in the books Amy and Ian in turn took charge of the Cahills in their teens, and this seemed to be the best way to translate that into this AU without killing off their parents. I really loved seeing Amy and Ian both grapple with power and responsibility in the books, and I wanted to explore the individual ways they tackle leadership as young adults! Once again, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. Seriously thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou it means a lot, and I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as I can!


	13. Chapter 13: Sand Between her Toes

"So, we are in the West Wing, mostly guest bedrooms and the like, here," Ian explained over his shoulder with apparent nonchalance, all the while painfully aware of Amy's presence as the sound of her footsteps from a few meters away struck his ears. She scurried to keep up with his strong stride, which might have been even stronger today — looking at her made his stomach churn. It was pleasant, but in conjunction with the throbbing headache and the restlessness he was feeling without a drink in his hand, it was all too much.

"There's so many bedrooms," Amy murmured, "does anyone else live here, other than you and your family?"

Ian's blood ran cold at the mention of his family as he felt a pang of guilt, Natalie's startled face flashing in his mind. He cleared his throat, turning his face away to further minimize the chance of meeting her gaze. "My family don't live here anymore," he explained haughtily, "they now reside in one of our estates in the South, away from the city".

"Oh, okay," Amy replied thoughtfully, and Ian snuck a glance at her over his shoulder. He caught his breath as his eyes met hers, gold to green, like rays of sunlight hitting a verdant field.

Ian looked away quickly, silent as they ascended a stairway to the top floor. As Amy managed to match his steps, almost three of hers to one of his, he kept his eyes lowered and noticed how the plum silk skirts of her gown trailed lightly along the marble tiles.

She had been provided with clothing of course. When Ian saw her emerge from her room dressed in a (customarily more revealing) Lucian-made gown, his mouth went dry. The dress highlighted every shapely curve, displaying the slope of her cleavage and her bare shoulders. Ian had never had a harder time looking away from anyone before.

"Is this our last stop, we've been at this for _hours_ , your palace is too big," Amy grumbled, arms folded and shoulders slumped.

The corners of Ian's mouth lifted in amusement. "It has been _one_ hour," Ian corrected, lifting up a finger, "and yes we have we have one more 'stop', I have greatly condensed this little tour and spared consideration for your tired feet, so you are welcome." He led Amy down another long hallway, feet thumping against the expensive burgundy carpet.

"Wow, Ian, thank you _so much_ for not showing me all eighty of your bathrooms!" The redhead exclaimed with a roll of her eyes, tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Eighty two, and I already said you were welcome," Ian responded haughtily, placing his hand on a set of golden doorknobs while Amy looked up at the set of imposing blue doors. "I think you'll like this room," Ian grinned.

"Is it a library?" Amy inquired, raising her eyebrows.

The smile fell off Ian's face like an anchor on a ship. "How did you know?" He demanded, hands dropping to his sides in disappointment.

Amy shrugged. "You hadn't shown me the library yet, and you said I would like it, plus it's just always a library, you know?"

"Oh, fuck you," Ian grumbled, cheeks reddening as Amy giggled, almost irritatingly endearing.

"I mean, I'm still excited to see it!" Amy clasped her hands together in anticipation, and Ian's lips reluctantly curved into a smile at her excitement.

He swung the doors open, and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm that had become customary to make. "Welcome to the Kabra library."

Ian watched in pleasure as Amy's eyes grew as wide as saucers, drinking in the domed room with a sense of wonder that absolutely fascinated him. Ian liked to read, but he still didn't understand how she could be so enthralled by a roomful of dusty old books. You'd think she had just walked into a room full of gold and jewels.

"Ian, it's incredible," she breathed, as Ian had a hard time remembering to breathe himself.

The library was a circular room with gleaming marble floors, brass bookshelves built into the walls as high as the ceiling, which arched into a dome of stained glass, bathing the room in multicolored light. Semi circles of shelves were arranged in an almost maze-like fashion, while the center of the room contained plush cushioned seats and carpeting.

"I suppose it's nice," shrugged Ian, rubbing the back of his neck as Amy ran to the nearest shelf, eyes darting from one book to the other, fingers flicking across volumes.

She was at a loss for words, and continued to gasp and shriek as she found everything from the classics she adored to historical artifacts she had only dreamed of getting her hands on.

"Oh my god, Ian, no way, it can't be," she murmured, grazing the spine of a leather bound journal just out of her reach.

"Olivia's journal about the five children, apparently lost," Ian grinned smugly, "yes, we found it".

Amy grumbled, on her tippy toes as she attempted to reach the book. She tripped on her own two feet and was about to hit the floor when Ian swooped in, wrapping a strong arm around her waist.

Amy blushed. She slowly looked up at Ian, who met her eyes equally abashed. Gently, the queen eased herself out of his grasp, and tried once more to pull the book out of the shelf.

"Allow me," Ian murmured, fingers brushing against hers every so slightly, sparks coursing through his veins as they both drew back quickly. Ian then carefully dislodged the book from its location and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said, "I'd like to stay here for a while and read, if you don't mind".

"Of course, stay as long as you'd like," Ian bowed. "Although I hope you will join me for dinner at seven o' clock".

Amy smiled at him. "I'll be there."

* * *

Natalie could taste the salt in the air. As seagulls cooed out of sight, the princess dug her toes into the golden sand, feeling the grains between her toes. She couldn't remember the last time she had left _her room_ bare feet, let alone gone outside.

The waters lapped calmly, their bright azure had darkened into a deep navy under the night sky, which was clear and dotted with twinkling stars. She hadn't seen stars in a while, the city was so polluted you'd be lucky to catch a glimpse of anything other than smog.

Her mum and dad had been asleep for hours, in separate beds of course. When they'd first arrived at the estate, her mum had flown into a nearly violent rage, lunging at the guards, spittle flying to the moon. Her father seemed furious as well, the vein in his forehead throbbing as it did when he was angry. But after they realized that the estate was surrounded by guards and fully equipped with staff to see to their well being, her mother had realized that there was nothing she could do.

 _"Is he a fool? Why would he do such a thing?"_ Isabel had demanded, features arranged in a perplexed frown. Natalie and her father had sat in silence as she paced back and forth, cursing Ian and blaming Vikram for producing such a disrespectful son.

It had been a while since they'd been brought here, and Natalie would be lying if she said she wanted to go back. She missed Ian, of course, but being here meant she could do what she liked without worrying about the scrutiny of the public, of her parents.

Her father secluded himself in the library, reading books about linguistics and sampling the expensive wines that the estate had been stocked with. Her mother, meanwhile, was bored out of her mind. She needed to be plotting, to be advancing, but after she realized that the guards were loyal to Ian and would not shy away from physically restraining her if she tried to leave, she spent her days having new gowns made by the maids, relaxing in her chambers, and being miserable without a piece of authority to give her life meaning.

Natalie did all sorts of things, things she couldn't do at home. She had lessons in the mornings with her governess, Ian had insisted on it, and as boring as they were sometimes it excited her to learn. Back at the palace she would peer through the window as Ian learned languages and mathematics and read poetry and prose, in jealousy. Now, she was a scholar. But she did other things to. She painted. She walked along the beach with no shoes on. She slept in. She chatted with the staff sometimes. She even spent time with her father, who read to her and even made jokes sometimes.

 _"Stop crying, for heaven's sake," Ian had murmured into her ear, as she sobbed into his shoulder. Ian pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, slipping it into her fingers._

 _"Is it normal for mothers to tell their daughters they're useless and stupid and that their happiness doesn't matter as long as they can smile and wave?" Natalie mumbled, wiping her nose with the handkerchief._

 _"Mum is fucking awful," Ian stated as Natalie gasped._

 _"Ian! Don't talk about her like that!"_

 _"She's horrid, and don't listen to a thing she says," Ian tutted, "you are amazing and you don't even need me to tell you that you deserve to be happy, because you're Natalie fucking Kabra and you're going to go and seize your own happiness, probably in heels!"_

 _Natalie giggled, wiping away the last of her tears as Ian's features softened into a smile. "Well, I'm never going to be happy at this palace, not while mum tells me I look fat in every dress before a ball and thinks I'm stupid for not already accepting a wealthy suitor," she sniffled._

 _Ian paused, the gears in his head spinning. "When I become king, I'm going to have you sent away, Nat, and you're going to do whatever you bloody please"._

Natalie smiled fondly at the memory. She would've appreciated a more detailed warning, not just a vague promise from months ago, but he had done it. Natalie certainly wasn't happy yet, she had a long way to go. But she was getting there. She was got to feel the sand between her toes and learn arithmetic and sing in the shower. And for that she was thankful.

* * *

hello my loves! I'm so sorry about how long this took me to post, and it's not even that long a chapter. I've been super swamped with schoolwork and I've just started writing for the student newspaper! After spending all day writing articles or notes or whatever it's hard to feel inspired and energized enough to bust out another chapter ya feel. But I love this story to bits and I will do my best to finish it! BUT YES i hope u liked it and pleeeease leave me a review they make me want to keep writing! Love u guys thank u for all the support so far!


	14. Chapter 14: King Ian the Ruthless?

"Amy?"

Ian frowned in concern, clearing his throat with a rap of his knuckles against her door. She hadn't shown up to dinner (to his disappointment), so he thought he might check on her and bring her something to eat.

"Amy, are you in there?" He called, his tone swelling with urgency.

"Just a second!" He heard a muffled reply, flinching at the sound of her presumably tripping on the carpet moments later.

Ian composed himself, straightening his back, awkwardly clutching a silver tray laden with food. He couldn't recall ever serving someone food, or let alone holding a tray. Servitude did not suit him well (but he would wear it for her).

The door swung open, and Amy emerged, smoothing down her mane of slightly disheveled red curls. "Oh my goodness, I accidentally slept through dinner, I'm so sorry," she blurted apologetically with her eyes widened.

"I understand, being kidnapped would exhaust anyone," Ian chuckled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Amy giggled, cocking her head slightly to the side. She regarded him playfully. "Ian Kabra, did you just make a _joke_?" Amy pulled the door open, gesturing for him to enter.

"Don't tell anyone," he replied with mocking seriousness, setting down the tray on Amy's bedside table. "You must be hungry, and I don't know what you like so I brought some of everything."

"Thank you, you didn't have to go through all that trouble," Amy smiled, tenderness in her gaze.

"It was no trouble," Ian declared, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

"Are you going to keep me company as I eat my way through this assortment?" Amy asked, sitting down on her bed, eyes full of mirth.

"If you'd like," Ian responded with a glint in his own, trying to ignore the spurt of pleasure in his stomach. He sat down on a love seat across from her, hands clasped between his knees as he watched her take a few bites of roasted vegetables.

"Did you have the letter sent to my family?" Amy inquired, her voice momentarily faltering at the utterance of the word 'letter' as her mind flashed back to a different time, when her days had revolved around letters.

"Ah, yes, it should be there soon," Ian nodded, "hopefully it'll quell their worries".

"Hopefully," Amy agreed, taking a sip of the sparkling rose wine. "Would you like some?" The queen held out her goblet, her offering innocently courteous but inadvertently placing the King in a difficult position.

Ian tightened his lips, the headache that had plagued him all day seeming to amplify with the offering of alcohol. He wanted some. He wanted some so fucking bad, bloody hell.

"I'm alright, thanks," he muttered, and Amy shrugged, placing the goblet back on her bedside table.

"Can we talk about negotiations tomorrow, then?" Amy crossed her legs, a newfound intensity colonizing her demeanor as she departed from being just Amy, and became Queen Amy.

"I have to sit with parliament until sundown," Ian hastily responded, running a hand through his hair, "and there's meant to be a party in the evening".

"A party?"

"You're invited, naturally, if you would like to come".

"Okay, so we can talk at the party!" Amy beamed, and Ian groaned in response to the smirk she wore.

"I suppose we can," he murmured, running a hand through his hair.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence. Ian drank the girl in, the alluring curve of her lips, the hints of red in her coppery hair, how her cloud of lashes cast shadows across her cheeks.

Ian pictured a different world. One where the two of them could've shared a moment like this, a moment seemingly unremarkable but unexplainably blissful, but she might've been his. Not near him because she had been forcibly brought to his presence, but because she couldn't leave his side.

Amy dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Thank you again for bringing me dinner," Amy smiled as Ian rose to leave.

"My pleasure," Ian bowed, lowering his gaze. "Don't sleep through the party tomorrow!"

"Oh, stop, I won't," Amy grinned playfully.

"Good night, Ian."

"Good night, love."

* * *

Amy resisted the need to twirl in her Lucian made gown. Back home, dresses were pretty but stiff, held up by corsets and a sense of decorum. Here, people dressed to accentuate every curve of their bodies, the corsets were replaced with tight sashes and the and the heavy tulle was replaced by lightweight silk, fashion being the linchpin of social expression amongst all walks of society.

The palace employed the most expert tailors in the land and they'd had a selection of dresses already made for Amy to choose from. Ian had sent Nataliya into Amy's room in the morning to take her measurements, and Nataliya had returned with a gorgeous gown that had been altered to perfectly fit the Madrigal Queen later in the evening.

"It's so beautiful," Amy breathed, indulging herself with a twirl. Just a little one. "And this fabric is incredible!" Amy thumbed the creamy silk, a shade of gold that gleamed ethereally. It was unlike the more fashionable fuchsias, emeralds, crimsons, and turquoise's that most of the other ladies would likely be donning, but this was more Amy.

"I've never worn a dress like this before, thank you ever so much, Nataliya!" Amy contained the urge to grasp the tailor by her hands and jump up and down in joy, and inspected herself in the mirror one last time. She was still not used to baring so much skin. The dress was carelessly off shoulder, with a sweetheart neckline that pushed her breasts forward and skirts that swirled around her legs, trailing behind her when she didn't lift them up (a goddamn tripping hazard, if you asked her). A pair of gold satin slippers peeped out from underneath the skirts — if no one could really see her feet it didn't matter what kind of shoes she wore!

"You are very welcome, your majesty," Nataliya smiled courteously, dipping into a curtesy, "are you excited for the event?"

"I'm quite nervous actually, I don't even know what the occasion for the party is!" Amy admitted, running a brush through her tresses, leaning against her dressing table.

Nataliya blanched, grey eyes solemnly lowering. "You don't know?" She murmured.

Amy slowly placed the brush back on the table, standing up straight as she sensed a newfound tension in the air. Features wrought it confusion, she shook her head.

Nataliya sighed, taking the love seat. "The party is meant to celebrate the success of the secret operation to seize one of the largest Janus gold mines," she explained, "pardon me for saying so, but these Lucians are extravagant, even when it comes to their blood thirst."

Amy smiled wanly, sitting down next to Nataliya. She couldn't lie, she was shaken. A party to celebrate a military operation? One that would put hundreds out of work and spark even more discontent? It was inhumane, and absolutely unheard of back home. It was humiliating to admit that in the short time she had spent with Ian, she had forgotten to think of him as a corrupt despot who encouraged warfare, and had slipped back into old habits.

"You speak of Lucians as if they weren't your people," Amy joked, curiously inclining her head to the side as a telling look swept across Nataliya's face.

"Well, I moved here from the Madrigal kingdom when I was a little girl, Your Grace," Nataliya divulged, "this _is_ where I'm from, but the ways of this kingdom do not always sit well with me".

Amy was surprised. She hadn't thought migration from one kingdom to another happened. People were so rooted in and stratified by the cultures and customs of their own kingdoms that they wouldn't dream of leaving. Immigration was unheard of. Or so Amy had thought.

"Are there a lot of people that feel the way you do in the Lucian kingdom?" Amy inquired, eyebrows drawn together in interest.

Nataliya paused. The woman hesitantly rose from where she was seated, eyes darting to and fro in quiet alarm. "I have been far too outspoken, Your Majesty, my apologies," she mumbled.

"Nataliya, whatever you tell me will remain between the two of us," Amy promised. The young Queen's eyes shone with honesty, putting the tailor at ease.

"I really do have to leave, my Queen, but if you would like to see, meet me in front of the main gates at dawn," Nataliya said, irritatingly cryptic as she curtseyed once more and fled the room.

Amy was taken aback. She was intrigued, but feared becoming complicit in something she didn't understand or agree with. What could Nataliya possibly need to show her? She was about to ponder the possibilities, when she realized she was extremely late.

"Oh, crap," she murmured, snapping up from her seat and making a dive for the door, sneaking a quick look at her reflection in the mirror on the way. She would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous.

As she made her way down the hall to the grand staircase, she thought about what it meant for her to be attending this party. She had told Ian she would, so not doing so would be a huge affront to him. But her attendance might imply that she supported armed attacks against the Janus, which she certainly did not. She needed to make sure that she kept a low profile, but also that anyone she interacted with knew that she was just a guest of Ian's, and that her presence was diplomatic.

Amy inhaled deeply to calm herself as she heard the thrum of conversation grow louder with every step she took down the grand hallway. The doors were opened and she stepped through, masking her hesitance with feigned self possession and her best attempt at grace.

Amy was taken aback by the grandeur of the main ballroom, from the gilded walls and ceilings to the ostentatious diamond chandeliers that bathed the sea of effortlessly beautiful guests in a golden glow. She was transported back to another party she'd attended three years ago in this very room . . .

Amy fondly admired the couples twirling on the circular dance floor in the center of the room. She wasn't much of a dancer herself, but she did love the _idea_ of dancing.

"Do you dance, my Lady?"

Amy was startled out of her thoughts as she met the smoky grey eyes of a handsome stranger dressed in a dapper blue suit.

"Oh, I'm not much of a dancer," Amy smiled politely, a blush crawling up her cheeks as the gentleman offered her a cheeky grin, as if she was missing some sort of private joke.

"Well, I would be honored if you would humor me with just one dance," he maneuvered smoothly, holding out a gloved hand.

Amy stared. Her eyes darted between the dancers and the hand that was offered to her, and she was about to part her lips to nervously accept when she felt a familiar arm fasten itself around her waist.

"My apologies, my Lord, but I'm afraid she will be dancing with me," Ian growled, eyes ablaze as he clenched his jaw, wordlessly sweeping Amy away from her suitor, towards the dance floor.

Amy was too surprised to pull away (plus she didn't really want to). Ian's larger hand enclosed Amy's daintier one, and he fastened his grip around her, his assertive hold containing a sense of tenderness.

"Who was he?" Amy asked, glancing over her shoulder to see that the stranger had disappeared. She turned back to find Ian's probing eyes resting on her, like gold set aflame.

"Dunno," Ian grumbled, "don't care," the King almost instinctively pulled Amy closer, making her heart race.

Ian's gaze didn't waver away from her for a second, and Amy didn't know if she could take this. Being so close to him that she could smell the clove on his skin and feel the warmth of his breath. His touch sent jolts through her skin, kindling a fire in her stomach, sending her heart and her brain into overdrive. Confusion wrapped around her senses, but oddly enough she felt more alert and alive than ever.

"Ian Kabra," Amy smirked bravely, her fingers playfully wrapping around his tie as she yanked his head downwards, "you were _jealous_."

Amy noticed how Ian's eyes momentarily dropped to her lips, before he lifted them back up, mirroring her with a smirk of his own. "Never," he retorted, lowering her into a dip, face still inches away from her when they straightened back into their original position.

"Well, in that case I'll just go dance with him then," Amy laughed, jokingly tugging her hands out of Ian's before he grappled for them, tightening his grip.

"Well, in that case I suppose I will admit that I was a _little_ jealous," Ian chuckled back, features softening as he observed her laugh, unknowingly taking his breath away. Holy fucking shit, how was it even humanly possible for anyone to be that bloody beautiful?

"There's something _I_ want to show you," Amy smiled, lacing her fingers through Ian's, pulling him away from the dance floor.

Ian smiled curiously. What could she possible show him in his own palace? Her hand burrowed in his, he didn't need her to show him anything else. But he followed her, catching a painful whiff of liquor as a waiter passed them holding a tray of drinks.

His headache hadn't subsided in two days, but he had a strong tolerance for pain of all kinds, and when he was with Amy he barely noticed it.

Amy pulled heavy curtains aside, and led him through a set of glass doors, and Ian drew a breath. She had brought him to the balcony where he had first met her. It was like they were fifteen again, and he was seeing her for the first time.

There she stood, glowing in the moonlight, a goddess of whom he was unworthy. "Bloody hell, you're beautiful," he breathed, taking a step towards her.

She smiled shyly, coyly biting her lip. "Remember this place?" She gestured all around with her hands, grinning at him, giving the sun a run for its money.

"How could I forget?" Ian replied, taking a chance and leaning his forehead against hers, their lips inches away.

"Ian," Amy murmured, senseless, lost in the moment, lost in him. She had never lost track of everything around her like this. The only thing that seemed to matter was Ian. "You make things so hard."

Suddenly, Ian was reminded of the letter he'd received from her, the one demanding they sever ties. She had destroyed him so easily, and Ian had recovered but who was to say she wouldn't do it again?

Ian allowed his lips to graze hers ever so slightly, before he reluctantly pulled away, eyes lowered, awkwardly clearing his throat.

Amy looked up at him, crestfallen. She hoped he couldn't see it on her face. "Is everything alright?" She asked earnestly, teaching for his hand which he quickly removed from her reach. Amy's eyes stung with unshed tears.

"Yes, I just remembered I have to make a speech in a few minutes," Ian exclaimed coldly, handsome features devoid of expression as he bowed, "excuse me".

She watched his leave the balcony, and felt like screaming into her hands. Foolish girl. He'd already broken her heart once by never responding to her heartfelt letters, and now she was letting him do it again. How could she be so stupid?

Blinking away unshed tears, she smoothed down her dress. She felt strangely empty without his touch on her skin, cold and icy and alone. Shuddering in the evening wind, she spun around and decided to go back into the party.

A crowd had gathered around the dance floor, which was now empty. The silence of the room was broken by Ian's strong footsteps. The King stepped onto the stage, smiling cordially, sending a bolt of lightning shooting through Amy.

"Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate another victory for our glorious kingdom!" Ian exclaimed, holding up his glass as the lords and ladies cheered.

Amy was suddenly mortified, reminded of the cruel occasion. She attempted in that moment to manufacture a distaste for Ian on the basis of his role in all of the violence that plagued the kingdom. But the thought of his eyes on her, playful, inviting, his arms around her, his lips against hers, it made it impossible. Her heart hurt, and she couldn't do anything about it.

"I would like to propose a toast!" Ian declared, "to our brave soldiers for seizing the gold mine from the Janus dogs! Glory to the Lucians!"

Amy was appalled as every single face she could see was filled with glee, and as everyone raised their glasses to toast war, greed, and pride, she turned on her heels and fled. She couldn't be in this room a moment longer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ian watched her leave, fighting the urge to run after her. He turned to his people, basking in their praise instead.

"Long live King Ian, King Ian the Ruthless!"

 _Ruthless_ , Ian thought ruefully.

 _If they only knew._

* * *

Hello! Happy Valentine's Day you guys I tried to write this real fast as a little valentines treat! Btw yes the coronated at 18 thing happens in all the kingdoms, but the other kids just haven't appeared in the story yet! Also YES I was absolutely inspired by beauty and the beast with the library bit! This story was originally going to be a very close 39C version of b&b but there are already a few of those floating around, and so I ended up extending that into a little universe of my own! thank you for reading it means so much to me, and I would be so so so thrilled if you left me a review! I can see u on my traffic stats everyone who reads and doesn't review! No but seriously it makes me so happy to hear what u think, good or bad. stay tuned for more !


	15. Chapter 15: The Truth

"Thank _Olivia_ , she's okay!" Hope groaned, cradling her head with hands that had grown tired of wiping away frightened tears. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Arthur heave a sigh of relief as his eyes ran down the page, welling with tears of joy.

After reading Amy's letter that apologetically explained that she had gone to the Lucian Kingdom for an emergency diplomatic meeting and asked if Hope could sit in parliament in her stead, Hope had been in the mindset to scold her daughter and ground her till she was thirty. Amy might've been the Queen, but she was still Hope's baby. But so swamped in a liberating sense of relief, Hope couldn't find it in herself to sustain her initial anger.

"I told you she knew what she was doing!" Grace exclaimed gleefully, her tone so vibrant and jovial it couldn't possibly have belonged to someone with such a pale, gaunt face.

Hope's features softened as he mother smiled, before the older lady turned away and emitted a hacking cough that thoroughly wracked her frail body, a damaged vessel that had withstood many a tide. Her cheeks were sunken, dark circles had taken residence under her eyes, and she was much thinner than she had been a couple months before. But she still carried herself with a sense of grace.

"You should rest, Grace, we know where Amy is now," Arthur gently touched Grace's shoulder before she batted him away with a bony hand.

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Grace snapped indignantly, watery blue eyes flashing angrily.

Over Arthur's shoulder, she noticed Dan flinch at the 'D-word', and contained a flinch of her own.

"Come on, Grace, I need some help with my geography homework," Dan chuckled, linking an arm through his grandmother's. Hope noticed how the childish bounce in his step had gone. When did that happen?

"Yes, Danny, good idea," she smiled, as Dan helped the dying woman exit the room, and Hope exchanged a somber look with her husband.

 _Please hurry home, Amy,_ Hope thought.

 _She doesn't have very long._

* * *

The Queen of the Madrigal kingdom had always been an early riser. As birds chirped 'good morning' and the sun rose, as did she, usually.

Today had been a different story.

Maybe it was the extra soft duvet and the fluffy pillows that beckoned her back into bed to continue her slumber, or maybe it was the fact that Ian Kabra had carelessly snapped her heart in two again, but whatever it was she just couldn't get out of bed.

After being jolted awake by an icy shower, Amy donned a demure dress in a forest green and pinned her hair up. She was light on her feet as she silently shut her door, pacing down the hallway with the speed of a horse (albeit, a very quiet one).

She could make out Nataliya's slim figure in the shadows, ominously draped in a burgundy cloak. Nataliya glanced over her shoulder at the soft padding sound of Amy's footsteps, and she curtseyed dilligently.

"Good morning, my Queen," she offered quietly, and Amy felt a muted somberness in the air as she tried to smile in response, although nervousness was eating her up.

"Good morning, Nataliya, what is it you wanted to show me?" Amy replied kindly, tone hushed.

Nataliya held a finger up to her lips, and pulled Amy to the side of the enormous doorway which was framed by gleaming torch holders on either side, both empty. Frantically looking about her to ensure no one was watching, the seamstress violently pulled the torch holder downwards three times.

Amy watched curiously, eyes widening in surprise as she heard a loud click on the third tug. The wall which had initially appeared seamless swung backwards, producing a guttural sound, and revealed a set of stone steps. Amy wasn't going to lie, she had expected something this clichéd. But still, it was a little frightening.

What lay at the bottom of those stairs?

"Quickly," Nataliya murmured, leading Amy into the wall, which closed behind them the second they stepped inside, "it can be annoying when you don't step in quickly enough, and you have to do it all over again. Takes away the excitement, you know?"

"Fair enough," Amy grinned, "are you going to tell me where we're going now, or is it going to be a spooky surprise?"

Nataliya paused for a moment, chuckling at Amy's comment, walking down the spiraling steps alongside her. "Well, there are a lot of us in the kingdom that are extremely dissatisfied with how the Kabras have ruled," Nataliya began as they came to the bottom of the staircase, entering a cramped, unlit room with wooden doors.

"Am I to meet some of them?" Amy asked, gesturing at the doors, a clever glint in her eye.

Nataliya nodded. "Some of them," she repeated, pushing the doors open and stepping aside.

Amy's mouth popped open as she stepped into a chamber as large as the grand Lucian ballroom, dimly lit by torches. There must've been several hundred people in the room, elderly men with canes, small children clinging to the skirts of harrowed mothers, youths pumping their fists. It was absolutely packed, and full of a fiery energy Amy had never experienced before.

Nataliya grabbed Amy's arm so they wouldn't lose each other, and pulled her against the back wall. Amy stood on the tips of her toes to see a stage at the front of the room, upon which stood a thin, blonde woman Amy didn't recognize. Amy stared over the sea of heads, heart pounding.

"We have lived under tyranny of the Kabras for generations!" She yelled in an unplaceable accent, throwing her fist in the air, a motion many in the audience copied, echoing her anger with yells of their own.

"Down with the Kabras!"

"Bring peace back to the kingdom!"

"My family starves under the Kabras!"

"Ian Kabra is a filthy despot, worse than his parents, worse than his grandparents!" the woman shouted to a chorus of agreement. Amy looked about the crowd in distress. No, he wasn't. He _wasn't_. Concern pooled in the pit of her stomach, the thought of anything happening to Ian. . .

"The Madrigal Ambassadors are working on plan to remove the Kabras from leadership, if not through peace, then kL through force!" She howled, and the crowd burst into cheers. Amy inhaled sharply. The _Madrigal_ Ambassadors? What?

"Death to the Kabras!"

"Down with the Kabras!"

"Down with Ian Kabra!"

"What is this?" Amy hissed to Nataliya, features contorted in fear. Nataliya continued to hold her arm as people flooded out of the chambers through various doors.

Nataliya interpreted her previous question the way she liked, and jutted her chin outwards to indicate the doors. "This room has existed since the days of Luke's reign, he likely used it to illegally torture prisoners and his enemies alike."

Amy shuddered. _Torture_.

"The doors lead to various tunnels and stairs that open into different parts of town," Nataliya continued to explain, her voice echoing in the largely empty chamber. They were the only two that remained, aside from a small huddle of people that stood on stage, engaged in a fervent conversation.

"Madrigal Ambassadors?" Amy demanded, as Nataliya looked away in what Amy assumed was a variant of embarrassment.

"Come meet the leaders, they will explain," Nataliya hastily suggested, and Amy obliged her, following the woman to the stage. Five heads turned to watch the Queen climb the steps to the stage, and Amy felt her cheeks grow warm as the unfamiliar eyes seemed to probe her.

"Who is this, Nataliya?" The blonde woman asked coldly, raising an eyebrow as she observed Amy, who unsmilingly held her gaze, before scanning the other five strangers.

Amy almost gasped when she noticed the handsome, smoky eyed stranger stood next to the woman, watching her curiously, the hint of a smile on his lips. Amy didn't recognize anyone else.

"This is Queen Amy Cahill of the Madrigal Kingdom," Nataliya announced, and Amy bowed her head politely, noting how the huddle of strangers quickly dipped into the deepest bows and curtsies Amy had ever seen.

"There's no need for that," Amy humbly proclaimed, "but I would like to learn the names of the people that claim to be 'Ambassadors' of my kingdom," Amy swept her fingers into air quotes, eyebrows raised accusatorially.

They were dumbfounded as they exchanged grim looks, until the handsome boy from last night cleared his throat. "Your Grace," he purred, "my name is Nikolai Spasky, and this is my mother, Irina," Nikolai nodded in the blonde woman's direction. "And these are our colleagues, Andras, Chrissy, and Alana."

"Pleasure," Amy said impatiently, "but I want to know what this cause is, and why you have taken the name of my kingdom!"

"You asked for our names, my Queen," he teased, and Amy tried not to roll her eyes. Did this idiot really think this was a good time to flirt with her?

"You think is good time to flirt, you stupid boy?" Irina flicked Nikolai on the ear, and he indignantly hushed, and Amy felt a coil of appreciation grow for the woman.

"We are movement, your Highness, made up of those who see the despotic rule of the Kabras as something needs to be put an end to," Irina explained, "we have all seen how their rule favors only the rich, leaving rest of kingdom to pay high taxes, starve, and to have very little access to public services."

"So you intend to start a revolution?" Amy clarified, and Irina nodded.

"We do, but we do not want to rush," she said, and Amy admired her cool logic. "We intend to figure out what course the kingdom will take after the revolution, because instability could be worse for the kingdom in the long term, even worse than tyranny."

"We call ourselves the 'Madrigal Ambassadors' because we admire the spirit of your people and your leadership, Your Majesty," Chrissy, a pretty girl with a head of dark curls and gleaming chocolatey skin interjected, "we want to emulate the peaceful, compassionate, yet ambitious and forward-looking nature of the Madrigals".

"That is very kind, but don't you realize that violence being the means to a peaceful end is contradictory, and certainly not the way of the Madrigals, if you say you draw inspiration from us?" Amy asked, shaking her head slightly.

The man named Andras scoffed, his pointy face folding into a grimace. "With all due respect, you do not understand the history and politics of this kingdom as well as we do," he began, dark eyes brimming with untold secrets, "no one wants to be violent, but sometimes it is the only way to be heard".

Amy cocked her head to the side thoughtfully, observing the man. She had to admit that he was right. Her rule was simpler because of the legacy of non-violence and peace in her kingdom, but this was the Lucian Kingdom, and things were different here. The Madrigal way was not the only way to do things, but it was the way she knew best. "You're right, I guess violence could be necessary to fulfill a goal, as awful as it is," Amy smiled sadly, "I should've realized that when I was kidnapped and brought here".

"I have to apologize for that, Your Highness, I coordinated operation to kidnap you," Irina said almost sheepishly, "I work for palace, but I do it to understand Ian Kabra".

Amy nodded, accepting her apology. "It wasn't your fault," she said gently, "but maybe I can help you".

"How?" Nikolai demanded with curiosity.

"I can talk to him."

* * *

"Ian?"

Amy heaved a shaky sigh, her weak knocks on the ornately carved door to his private study permeating the eerie silence of the hallway.

"Come in," she heard him utter coldly, making her heart sink to the pit of her stomach, frying in a vat of acid. That voice, so deep and silky, had just recently spoken to her with so much warmth and tenderness.

Now it was brittle, colder than ice.

Amy slowly opened the door. She drew a breath as she always did when she saw him. He was sitting at his desk, long legs folded elegantly, right leg behind his left, as he was bent over some documents. The sleeves of his fitted white shirt had been rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscled caramel forearms, slightly tensed. His hair was disheveled, artfully so, making him look more boyish and less imposing than he usually appeared to be.

But, good Gideon — on the bridge of his nose sat a pair of _spectacles_. Amy had never seen him wear spectacles before. She resisted the urge to lecherously lick her lips. Who would've known that Ian Kabra needed reading spectacles? (And who would've known he looked that freaking good in them?)

"What do you want?" Ian demanded coolly, removing his spectacles and placing them on the table. His face was devoid of any trace of emotion, but his eyes betrayed him. Amy could see something was eating him up, but she didn't know what it could have been.

"I just thought we might talk about politics like I stayed here to," Amy suggested, tentative as she lingered by the door, ready for when he inevitably asked her to leave, "I should probably go back to my kingdom soon".

"You might as well leave now, it's not like I could get parliament to agree with any of your little Madrigal ideas," Ian replied carelessly, leaning back in his seat with arms in a defensive fold.

Amy felt like a mouse confronting a lion, settling back into the familiar timidity she had worked so hard for years to shed. But as she studied him (blushing ever so slightly as she realized he was also studying her,) she remembered what was at stake. Not just for the kingdom, but for him. If she didn't get him to change his policies fast enough, the Madrigal Ambassadors would overthrow him, and there was no telling if they would spare his life. Amy wasn't having any of his arrogance today.

"'Little Madrigal ideas'?" Amy spat, "Ian, I'm only here because I want the best for your kingdom, and for _you_ , despite what you may think!" Amy declared, eyes ablaze as she slammed the door behind her.

She watched Ian's features rearrange. He looked curious. Mirth in the smirk that had crawled across his devastatingly handsome face, as if he were challenging her to continue.

Amy disregarded all of it, and stormed up to his desk, slamming her hands on the surface. "I know you might not like me, I don't know what I did to upset you so much, but we are both leaders, Ian," Amy stared defiantly, watching his eyes darken. "I was so devastated when you stopped writing to me, but I would never hold that over you when it comes to matters of our kingdoms!"

Amy was close to panting as she gazed down at him across his desk. She was ready to counter any snarky retort he might've thrown her way, but she was taken aback as he drew his eyebrows together in a beautiful frown, smirk falling right off.

"What do you mean, 'when I stopped writing to you'?" He demanded, rising from his seat, eyes unwaveringly fixated on hers, swimming with confusion.

Amy sighed, awash with the rejection she couldn't help but feel whenever she though about all the unanswered letters. "You know, when we were writing each other a while ago, and you just stopped replying," Amy mumbled, eyes downcast. She slowly lifted them back up, and saw gears turning in Ian's head.

Why was he so confused? Had the letters been so unimportant to him that he didn't even remember writing them?

"You're saying _I_ stopped writing to _you_?" Ian clarified, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, Ian! You don't need to rub it in, for Madeline's sake!" Amy yelled, unable to control the tears of frustration that sprung to her eyes.

"But I thought you said you didn't want to speak with me," Ian asked softly, as Amy frowned in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" She retorted, blinking away her tears.

Ian stepped gracefully around the desk and stood before Amy, so close she could feel his breath. He lowered his head, soulful eyes probing, widening when they saw that hers were full of tears, and her lower lip was quivering.

"You're telling the truth," he murmured wistfully, stepping away as if he'd just realized something, "fucking hell, I have to go".

Amy watched in bewilderment as he literally ran out the door, and as she heard his frantic feet hit the carpet in the hallway she wiped away her tears.

She couldn't take this anymore.

* * *

Ian's thoughts were in a whirlwind as he sprinted through the grounds. What the fuck. What the fucking fuck. Someone was lying to him, and he thought it was unlikely that the honest Queen of the Madrigals could pull of an act like that. Which meant that it had to be the only other person that knew about him and Amy.

He needed a fucking drink.

Ian was momentarily hunched, panting from running halfway across the massive property. His heart was pounding, but not just from the run. He didn't want to think too deeply about the possibility that it had been a misunderstanding — that Amy had been falling for him just as much as he had been for her — because if he was wrong _again_ , it would ruin him.

Right now, he would just focus on finding the truth.

Ian aggressively banged his fists on Bickerduff's door in the servants quarters, teeth gritted. "Bickerduff! Open the fucking door!" He yelled.

Bickerduff almost instantly opened his door, as sharply uniformed as ever. "What is wrong, my Liege?" the man inquired, obliviously dutiful.

"Is there anything you want to tell me about the letters I used to receive from Amy Cahill?" Ian growled, doing everything he could not to grab the old man by the throat.

Judging by the way his eyes popped wide open and his kindly face paled, Ian already had his answer. "Well, Bickerduff?"

"I have never felt more vile about anything in my life, Your Majesty, I am truly, truly sorry-" he began, deeply distraught as he backed away from Ian, who was heaving deep breaths to calm himself.

"What did you _do_?" the Lucian king spat, the muscles in his arms tensing as he threateningly ground the old man's back against the wall.

"Your mother forged a letter from the Madrigal Queen saying she didn't want to speak to you ever again, and told me to withhold the letters you sent each other," Bickerduff gasped, fear in his watery eyes, "I had no choice but to do what she asked, and I didn't tell you because I feared you would fire me, or worse!"

Ian released his grip on the man, his oldest and only friend, his childhood caretaker, and let him crumple to the floor, cowering in fright. Ignoring Bickerduff's apologetic pleas, Ian broke into a sprint once more. He had only one thing on his mind.

Amy.

He had been all wrong about her. She _did_ care for him, and he had treated her awfully and pushed her away, making her think that he didn't care for her, when that was the furthest thing from the truth. His cruel, conniving bitch of a mother had been tampering with his life, trying to take away the one thing that made him happy.

Fucking hell.

His legs felt like jelly as he climbed the palace steps. He hoped it wasn't too late. He had to apologize. She needed to know that he was falling in love with her, that he could barely go a minute without thinking about her, that he was goddamn powerless when it came to her.

"Amy!" He howled, throwing open the door to her room. His eyes darted from left to right.

She wasn't here, and the bed had been made, the Lucian-made gown she had been wearing earlier lying on the sheets.

She wouldn't have taken it off, unless . . .

"She's going to leave," Ian muttered, "No, no, no, no, no, Amy!"

He ran down the halls, down the steps, and threw himself out the main gates.

And there he saw her.

In the distance, stood next to the horse drawn carriage, in the dress she had been wearing when she had been brought here. She couldn't leave. Not without him telling her how he felt.

"AMY!"

Amy surprisedly glanced up at the sound of her name, and saw Ian running towards her like a madman.

"What is he doing?" She murmured to herself as he ran down to her.

He stood before her, panting furiously, forehead glistening, white shirt translucent with sweat.

"I was just about to leave," Amy said quietly, gulping, "I thought it might be best if I didn't say goodbye".

"Fucking hell, as if I would let you leave without saying goodbye," Ian growled, squaring his shoulders, those expressive eyes of his hungry, searching her face.

"Wha-" Amy began, before Ian pressed her against the carriage, his lips pulling hers into a searing kiss. Amy squeaked in surprise before melting into his arms, feeling his strong hands around her waist, burning through her dress, his grip firm yet tender. Amy's hands lingered on the panes of his chest, before drifting up to his shoulders, which she used to pull herself up by, wrapping her legs around his hips, hands entangled in his dark curls. It was as if time had stopped, fireworks were going off behind her eyes.

Ian groaned between hungry kisses, as lost in the smoldering moment as she was. Everything he wanted was in his arms. She smelled like vanilla and tasted like magic, and he was never going to let her go.

"Amy," he breathed raggedly against her lips, pulling away from the kiss (the most difficult bloody thing he had ever done), gently setting her back down on the ground. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love," he murmured, drinking her in, running his eyes along her pink cheeks and lips swollen from kisses.

 _His_ kisses.

"You will be the death of me, Ian Kabra," she said, fingers lacing through his. "I don't know what you want!".

"I want you, I've wanted you since we were fifteen and I saw you standing on that balcony looking like a fucking angel," he rasped, "so please, please don't go".

Amy had never heard Ian beg. She wished she had the power to say no, to push him away and to get into that carriage and never give him a second thought. But the thought of being away from him. . .

"I'll stay," Amy breathed against his lips, and she saw him beam, flashing her the biggest smile she had ever seen, making her heart flutter.

"I didn't know you could actually smile," she teased, draping her arms over his broadened shoulders as he pressed a kiss against her temple.

"It is a sight to behold, isn't it?" He joked, as she prodded him in the ribs, "I try to do it sparingly, but that's impossible when you're here".

Amy bit back a grin. "Smooth," she complimented, as he jokingly bowed in response.

"Sorry to bother, Your Majesties, but if you're not leaving can I take the horses back to the stables?" The driver of the carriage called, ruddy cheeks the color of a tomato after watching two Royals kiss each other senseless.

Amy and Ian laughed.

* * *

THAT WAS SO SATISFYING TO WRITE! oMG ! THEY KISSED! anyway thank you guys so, so, so much for the reviews, keep them coming! Judging by my plans for the story at the moment, there should be five or six more chapters that are similar lengths to this one, plus an epilogue! I know like nothing happened in the first like 12 chapters of this story and then all of a sudden bam, but thank you guys so much for sticking with it despite all of that! anyway, the entire story definitely isn't based on beauty and the beast, but just the bit about them being at a palace together is definitely directly taken from it? STAY TUNED for the next chapter, I'll get it done as soon as i can!


	16. Chapter 16: We Are Not Our Parents

"I'm glad you could make it this morning".

Amy's eyes rolled skywards as the blonde man blocked her entry into the secret room, leaning against the doorway wearing a stylish purple doublet and a cocky smirk that was unabashedly flirtatious.

"Of course, I came to support the cause," Amy offered a tense smile, bowing her head politely as Nikolai stepped aside, gesturing for her to pass through.

"Is that the only reason you came?"

His low whisper caused Amy to shudder, his warm breath tickling her ear. She whipped around, wearing the most unyielding of frowns, her jade eyes ablaze.

"Yes," she hissed, and suppressed a grin as she watched the smirk fall off his face before she continued through the doorway. She could practically see his air of self-assuredness evaporate in big clouds of thick grey smoke.

Amy would _not_ be taking this kind of behavior today. She had very reluctantly pried herself out of Ian's arms at the crack of dawn to attend this meeting, and if she had to deal with _anything_ on the wide spectrum of stupidity this morning so help her Gideon.

Nataliya, Irina, Chrissy, Alana, and Andras were sat around a table next to the stage Irina had captivated the audience upon only a few days ago. As Amy walked across the massive stone-walled room, Nikolai sheepishly trudging behind her, she felt guilt gnaw at her. If Ian knew that she was hiding a rebellion from him, he would never forgive her.

But at the same time, Amy knew that if he found out he would be rash and make a violent decision that would be awful for everyone. She was protecting him. When it was all over, he would understand.

Wouldn't he?

"Thank you for for joining us, Your Majesty," Irina greeted her, bowing her head slightly.

"Of course," Amy smiled graciously, taking a seat across from Nataliya, between Chrissy and (unfortunately) Nikolai.

"Andras, did you figure out how many men nobles have between them?" Irina asked the white haired man, who nodded silently as he pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket.

"The nobles in Lucian Kingdom have been militant for generations," Irina explained to Amy, "they have their own armies, all very well paid".

Amy noticed Irina's eye twitch ever so slightly, her jaw set as she read over the figures Andras provided, Nikolai reading over her shoulder. Nikolai's lips moved silently as he presumably counted something, before he touched his mother's arm.

"That's almost ten thousand armed men, mama," he muttered defeatedly, "we don't have as many willing and able fight, not to mention our weapons wouldn't even compare to what they probably have".

"If only the nobles didn't have armed forces," Chrissy mumbled, "then they wouldn't be able to control everything like this, fucking tyrants".

Amy quietly watched the resistance leaders murmur to themselves. She could see the fire in their eyes and hear the bitterness in their tones. This was a people on the brink of revolution, a violent one. But they had no resources, the common people were not trained to fight, and their were doing a poor job of mobilizing the population. One big quarterly meeting was not enough. This revolution would fail, and the Lucian Kingdom would become a state of people inhumanely enslaved by a fractional elite. She needed to do something to help.

 _If only the nobles didn't have armed forces. . . then they wouldn't be able to control everything . . ._

"How much are the knights of the crown paid?" Amy asked, eyes glinting with intelligence. Suddenly she held an air of formidability.

"Not very much, but they join because a knighthood is a great honor," Alana answered, eyebrows drawn together in curiousity.

"And the men that fight for the nobles, are they loyal to specific families or are they well paid?" the Queen wondered aloud, gears turning in her head.

"They are ridiculously well paid," Nikolai said, "why do you ask?"

"I think I have a plan, and it doesn't involve violence," Amy met Irina's steely eyes, "but you have to trust me".

* * *

Amy snuck back into Ian's room with the stealth of her brother fleeing the sight of one his bottle rocket explosions. As the sun began to rise, streams of light spilling past the edges of the luxurious golden curtains that draped the massive windows, a red headed girl slipped out of her dress, lips curving into a smile as her eyes lingered on Ian's sleeping form.

Ian Kabra was an intimidating man. From his broad, masculine physique to his probing golden gaze, he was undoubtedly imposing. Yet nestled underneath those creamy beige sheets, dark hair tousled, his handsome (and usually unsmilingly stern) features relaxed in an expression of tranquility, he looked pretty _cute_.

Holding back a giggle, Amy climbed back into bed, burying her head in the crook of Ian's neck. She inhaled the scent of clove, fingers grazing his back as she planted kisses against his jawline. He was so beautiful, it was kind of too much.

Ian groaned at her kisses, draping an arm around Amy's waist as he responded by pressing a kiss against her temple. "Fucking waking me up," he grumbled against her forehead, "it's still the middle of the night, you lunatic".

"The sun just went up, buddy, rise and shine," Amy giggled as Ian peppered her face with kisses, pulling her closer.

"I'm never getting out of bed, I have fuck all to do today," Ian murmured, nipping at her ear. "So I guess I'll be doing _you_ instead."

"That was the sleaziest line ever, Kabra, a solid D minus for that one," Amy laced her fingers through his, capturing his lips in a consolatory kiss.

"Did it work though?" Ian asked, smug as a pie whilst he looped his fingers through Amy's ponytail.

"Oh, it definitely worked," Amy grinned, "but that's just because I like you already".

Emitting a hearty laugh that made Amy's heart flutter, Ian's face grew somber, gaze softening as it rested on Amy. "Thank you," he smiled, squeezing Amy's hand.

"For what?" Amy frowned, puzzled.

"For staying," the King replied, tracing the back of Amy's hand with his lips.

"I _stayed_ because you said we were going to talk about the war," Amy exclaimed matter-of-factly as she lifted her head upwards to plant a kiss on Ian's nose.

"We can talk about the war for as long as you like," Ian folded an arm behind his head, tilting it towards Amy as a smirk played on his lips, "as long as we both stay in bed".

With a roll of her eyes, Amy flipped onto her stomach, resting her chin on Ian's chest. "Deal," she playfully complied. Exhaling through her nose, she watched as he sat up and looked at her expectantly. She didn't know how to start.

"You need to stop the war, Ian," Amy blurted, wrapping the plushy sheets around herself as she leaned against the elegantly hand carved marble headboard of the bed.

"Diving right into it, are we?" Ian sighed, "I respect that, but the war is the best thing for my rule, love, without it the kingdom would fixate on everything I'm doing wrong."

"Do you know how many people are dying because of a petty little misunderstanding?" the Queen spat, "I don't have figures, but thousands of children have been orphaned, and thousands of parents have had to bury their children, not to mention the thousands that have become physically and emotionally handicapped!"

Amy gulped, tears springing to her eyes at the thought of all the suffering. "An easy rule for you is coming at the expense of thousands of innocent lives, is that the kind of kingdom you want to rule, Ian?"

Ian ran his finger across Amy's cheek to wipe away a tear, his features contorted with guilt. "i know, and it's not," he muttered, "but even if I wanted to stop the war I couldn't, the nobility and parliament as so prejudiced against the other kingdoms, they want to see their destruction, and if I stood in the way of that I would lose my power to do anything at all".

Amy's lower lip quivered. She felt for Ian. He was backed into a corner. Do the right thing and lose your throne by upsetting the nobility, or do the wrong thing and eventually lose your throne to the Madrigal Ambassadors. He was just a kid. They both were. The whole institution of the monarchy had stripped them of childhood and freedom, and instead forced them to make difficult choices that would affect hundreds of thousands of people.

It wasn't fair.

"I know it's not fair Ian," Amy murmured, "and you're in a difficult position, but you are intelligent and compassionate, as well as a persuasive statesmen, and I'm here to help you figure out how to stay on the throne without sacrificing the peace of your kingdom".

Amy rested her head on Ian's shoulder, comforted by the the arm he placed around her.

"That's easier said than done isn't it?" He snorted, the bitterness of his tone making Amy flinch.

"Actually, I think I know what we have to do," Amy smiled with the lift of an eyebrow, "but are you willing to hear me out?"

"Always, my Queen," Ian breathed, comforted by her optimism and confidence. He needed her, he always knew he had, but he needed her now more than ever.

As Amy explained the policies she thought he needed to implement, and the strategies behind them, Ian realized something.

His headache was gone.

* * *

The icy winds whipped at Amy's hair, silken tresses vividly copper against the clear blue of the sky. Tightly wrapping her heavy wool coat around her slender frame, Amy shuddered at the cold.

"Come here, love," Ian murmured, fastening his arms around her, rubbing circles on her back. "Is that better?"

"Yeah, thanks," she blushed, sneaking a look over her shoulder at the handful of guards that had accompanied them, all of whom were awkwardly rubbing their necks and glancing in every other possible direction.

Ian was surprisingly comfortable with public displays of affection. Around the palace staff he never shied away from kisses and caresses, even though Amy found it a little uncomfortable in front of other people. What she had with Ian was rare and magical and she didn't want it to be scrutinized by other people, lest it be taken away from her.

"Are you nervous?" She asked him, admiring the way his hair swept across his deep golden eyes, which were tenderly focused on her.

"No, of course not," he scoffed, shifting his gaze towards the horizon, "Ian Kabra does not get nervous".

Amy smiled fondly. She could see his lips thin in concentration as the gears in head were a-turn, eyes frantically traveling across the distant base of the hill, where you could see well guarded gates into each of the kingdoms.

Gideon's Seat lay precisely in the middle of the five kingdoms, a massive grassy hill rich with history. While the kingdoms shared a history rife with violent differences that had culminated in wars and prejudice, ultimately every grandmother for generations had told their grandchildren how legend said that Gideon and Olivia's house had been atop this hill. Hence its name, Gideon's Seat.

"Don't you think this would be the perfect site to build a meeting place for the five kingdoms?" Amy thought out loud, surveying the flat, wide face of the large hill. "Then we wouldn't have to meet in one kingdom for summits, and everyone wouldn't have to travel so far".

"The last time someone built something here, it was burned to the ground," Ian interjected darkly, eyes narrowing.

Amy looked at the base of the hill to see the sources of Ian's contempt. Three horse drawn coaches, each one followed by another coach (likely containing armed guards), were steadily traversing up the hill, nearly symmetrical as they ascended from three different directions. It was fascinating to watch.

Amy felt his arms tense, and she gently slipped out of them, fingers still woven through Ian's. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she offered him a reassuring smile. "It's going to be fine, Ian, I know it is," she nodded, trying not to let her positivity falter.

"Why wasn't it fine for our parents?" Ian asked earnestly, inadvertently dampening Amy's confidence. No, no, she would not let anything put a damper on her. She needed to be confident for both of them.

"We are not our parents".

This answer sufficed for Ian, evidenced by the smile he gave her. It was strained, but it was a smile. But when he tried to put his arm around Amy once more, she slowly removed it with a shake of her head as Ian's expression molded into one of mild hurt.

"It's better if they don't know about us at this point," the Madrigal Queen shrugged, "it would only make things more complicated, they would think I'm biased towards you".

"Fine," Ian muttered, clearly unhappy as he folded his arms imposingly.

Amy sighed. He was such a child. Elevating herself by standing on her tippy toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, giggling as she observed his grimace tugged into a reluctant smile.

The smile faded quickly as the sound of neighing horses and clattering hooves neared, until three foreign coaches joined the one Ian and Amy had arrived in. Amy watched as Sinead stepped out of her vehicle, clad in yellow silk and luxurious brown furs. Lifting her heavy skirt, she joined Ian and Amy as they respectively dipped into a bow and a curtsey.

"It is so good to see you, Amy!" Sinead gushed to her friend with her back turned to Ian, offering her air kisses on each cheek which Amy accepted whilst momentarily surprise.

"It's good to see you too, Sinead, thank you so much for coming," Amy said, tone genuinely gratuitous as Sinead nodded back smilingly.

Jonah Wizard was next to exit his vehicle, sauntering over to the trio, offering a polite hello to Amy and a silent nod to the other two.

Amy would be lying if she said she was still overwhelmingly positive. The air between the monarchs was already uneasy. (Well, centuries of war could lead to a little awkwardness.)

And then Hamilton stepped out of his coach, squinting contemptuously at Ian with cold blue eyes the second his feet struck the ground.

Amy saw Ian emit a low growl at the sight of the Tomas King, and despite what she had said earlier, she placed a comforting hand on his arm to which Sinead raised her eyebrows.

"Let's cut to the chase, why am I here?" Hamilton addressed Ian with overt disdain, legs in what was almost a warrior's stance.

Ian sighed to calm himself, before sneaking a look at Amy. Amy smiled, nodding reassuringly. She knew he could do it.

"Thank you for accepting the ceasefire, all of you," he declared, his deep voice clear and filling Amy with hope. She believed in him.

"Yeah, yeah, enough with the frilly crap, _why_ am I here, Kabra?" Hamilton snapped, the other two monarchs silent but clearly wondering the same.

Amy could see Ian's hands shaking. He was angry, and doing his best not to let it show.

"I want to call an end to this war," Ian stated, "it's gone on long enough and hurt too many people".

Beaming at Ian, Amy resisted the urge to throw her hands around his neck. He was doing it! She saw the other three monarchs drop their jaws, equally baffled. While the kingdoms (excluding the Madrigals) all had a fair share of blood on their hands, the Lucians were known for being particularly ruthless. Ian had started a revolution against his past with a single sentence.

" _You_ ," Jonah began incredulously, eyes widened, "wish to end a war?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Sinead probed, curious eyes burning with unasked questions.

"Like I mentioned, I don't see the spillage of innocent blood as as productive for any of our kingdoms," he said, before drifting into a pause. "And I am sorry for what not just my parents, but my ancestors, have done to bring suffering to your people".

It had been difficult for him to say that, Amy could see it on his face. But goddamn, she was proud. He had never been more attractive to her than he was now, strong and brave, taking responsibility and doing what was harder but right. His dark skin gleamed in the sunlight, gold eyes flashing.

"So you surrender?" Hamilton clarified with a smirk, arms folded.

"I beg your pardon?" Ian frowned.

"You can't just 'end a war'," Hamilton criticized with air quotes, "someone has to be surrendering, and it seems like you are!"

Amy resisted the urge to shoot the Tomas King a glare. He was being a facetious douche. She turned back to Ian, momentarily frightened he would say —

"I surrender," Ian growled through gritted teeth, throwing out his hand for Hamilton to shake.

This time it was Amy's jaw that popped open.

"Wonderful, I accept your surrender, do the two of you?" The Tomas King shook Ian's hand wearing the smuggest Of grins before he questioningly looked between Jonah and Sinead.

"I accept it as well," Jonah nodded, shaking Ian's hand in turn.

"As do I," Sinead responded with a firm handshake of her own, "but how do we know we can trust you not to fall into old habits, after all, your kingdom started the war and you seem to have a tradition of doing so".

Amy watched Ian with bated breath.

"I will be joining the Cahill Treaty," he said, eyes growing gentle as they met Amy's.

Amy smiled at him. It was the dawn of a new era.

* * *

"He's paid thousands in gold to the other kingdoms in reparations! The war is over!" the Madrigal Queen clapped her hands together, "not to mention the Lucian Kingdom will be joining the Cahill Treaty!"

Irina and Nataliya exchanged dubious glances, while Nikolai leaned back in his seat, cocking his head to the side. "My Queen, I am curious, how did you make King Ian 'the Ruthless' agree to do such things?"

Amy shrugged. "He's my friend, and despite what you may think he really does listen to reason, he isn't like his parents."

Nikolai was clearly dissatisfied with this answer, and parted his lips to further his interrogation before he was interrupted.

"He is still a boy, and we do not have any assurance that he will continue on this path," Andras accused, tone heavily skeptical.

"And we haven't seen any change yet! It could be decades before the effects of the Cahill Treaty make any real difference to our lives!" added Chrissy with a shake of her head.

"What about the nobles? Parliament? Will they accept this change? They will shut it all down and kick Ian Kabra off the throne before we can!" Alana huffed disbelievingly.

"Look," Amy started calmly, "I know its hard to believe in a ruler who has given you no reason to trust him. But he's changing, I promise. It's not easy to come from a line of people that taught you that all there is to life is glory, power, and material possessions, and challenging that part of you. Give him time, please, I have faith in him, and you should to," Amy pleaded, noticing Irina's face soften.

"Three months," she stated, "we will give him three months".

With all the excitement and progress that had been made, the seven were far too invested in their discussion to notice the tall man who hid behind the doorway, amber eyes darkening with rage at what he was hearing. Amy was consorting with usurpers. She was betraying him.

And Ian Kabra did not take kindly to betrayal.

* * *

hello ! The story is less focused on Amy and Ian's relationship because they have so much stuff to take care of, but I hope you all liked this chapter! ooOooOooOh Ian is noT HAPPY. I've been asked to slip in Natan, and while I love me some Natan, the premise of this story requires Dan and Natalie to be in different places so I don't think I'll be able to (but MAYYYBE we'll see). But I'm actually really excited to finish this story (even though we still have quite a ways to go) because I have a couple ideas for Amian AU multichapters! Omg also i found my two old accounts on here! I wrote a couple stories when I was fifteen as Furrytoaster, and they're still up because I can't access the login info for the account. the second one, 'he lost hope', is kind of a mess but probably my favorite 39C piece I've written so far. (I'm not telling you guys about my first account, I wrote some astonishingly awful stories on there, holy shit). Anyway, I am so grateful for all of the kind reviews you guys have left me so far (seriously, thank you so much), and I would love it if you kept them coming!


	17. Chapter 17: I'm in love with you

"—And that is the economic forecast of the Lucian Kingdom for the next twenty five years after the war ends and we implement the Cahill Treaty."

The depth and confidence of Ian's voice resonated across the domed chamber as hundreds of variedly wrinkled and narrow minded elderly parliamentarians were dumbfounded by what they had heard.

"As you can see, all of the policies I have proposed will definitely increase our productivity, which will undoubtedly improve living standards for every single one of us," Ian slowly rolled up his chart, placing it on his podium. Hands clasped behind his back, he began to stroll to the center of the room, stride as strong as his newfound belief in himself.

"Simply put, gentlemen, if we do not implement the Cahill Treaty we will fall behind the other kingdoms," Ian trilled, locking eyes with each paling minister, "and we cannot have that, can we?"

The rest of Ian's afternoon passed by in the blink of an eye.

* * *

"And those in favor of implementing the Cahill Treaty?"

Ian's lips quirked into a smirk as nearly every hand in the room shot up, a testament to Ian's powers of persuasion. He couldn't help but swell with pride.

"Eighty-seven votes! The motion passes!"

Ian tried to contain a grin as the room burst into applause, and as the ministers rose in respect and the doors swung open, Ian nodded politely and kept his head down whilst he exited the room.

He was lost in his thoughts as he entered the carriage to return to the palace. Things were looking up for the Lucian Kingdom, and he had Amy to thank for that.

The faint smile that had been lingering on his lips since his victory faded at the thought of her. He needed to speak to her about what he had seen and heard. The faint ache in his heart since he had found out she was double-crossing him wouldn't subside, and he hated to admit to himself how his fear of rebellion was nothing compared to his fear of losing her.

He had been avoiding her for the past few days and it was killing him not to see her. But he needed to suss the situation first, and the wound of betrayal was so fresh that he knew he would likely lose his temper if he confronted her.

As the coach pulled up the palace, black mares whinnying, he felt his heartbeat quicken as he stepped onto the ground. Coming home for the past few days had been a delicate dance. He needed to make sure he stayed away from Amy but also that he didn't spark any suspicions by being too reclusive.

He tip-toed down the halls, eyes darting from left to right. Heaving a sigh, he grasped the doorknob and absentmindedly pulled the door to his study open, still keeping a lookout for Amy.

"Hello Ian."

Ian nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Amy sitting on his chair, legs draped over his desk, chin resting on her knuckles. Ian tried not to let his jaw drop. If he hadn't been so angry — bloody hell, the things he would've done to her.

"Why are you just staring at me?" Amy asked, lifting an eyebrow as she rose from her seat, folding her arms.

"Um, hey, how are you?" Ian asked uncertainly, averting his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm great," Amy responded with a roll of her own eyes as she walked up to Ian, "so why are you ignoring me?"

Fuck.

"I'm not ignoring you, I've just been really busy with work and all," Ian mumbled, "by the way, parliament passed the Cahill Treaty."

Amy accusatory look melted into one of pure joy, her eyes widening as she clapped her hands in excitement. "That's incredible, Ian, I'm so proud of you," she squealed, throwing her arms around him, planting a kiss on his neck.

Ian inhaled the smell of her hair, the hug lingering far longer than he should've allowed. Slowly, he pulled away to see her face fall, those bewitching eyes clouded with confusion and hurt. He felt awful. But he needed to be careful.

"Ian, what's wrong?" she asked, "please, talk to me".

"Nothing," Ian grumbled, awkwardly hovering by the door, looking away from her.

"Ian, you don't have to-"

"Everything's _fine_."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, everything changed.

Ian spent every day in parliament, and had the government approve increases in the salaries and benefits of the military — an incentive for the nobility's armies to abandon their posts and join State forces, taking away power from the titled rich and stabilizing Ian's rule.

He and Amy developed plans for reconstruction of the parts of the kingdom that had suffered the most damage during the war, and visited families that had been affected to offer them sincere apologies and financial compensation.

They went to impoverished neighborhoods to erect schools and universities, and visited farmers to assure them that their crops would be protected despite new forms of trade with other kingdoms.

Yet Ian was still cold to Amy, in spite of all her efforts to glean what was wrong.

The dawn of Ian's big announcement to the kingdom that the war was over, he was crouched behind a statue in the main hallway, waiting for Amy to enter the secret room so he could follow her.

Of course, he wasn't even sure if she was coming. He'd waited here every morning since that one time he caught her in an effort to understand what was going on. But alas, there had been no secret meetings since, and there probably wouldn't be one today, but better safe than sorry.

Ian was jolted out of his thoughts by the familiar sound of Amy's footsteps on the luxuriant carpet, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. A crease formed between his eyebrows as he watched Amy sneak anxious looks over her shoulders before she grasped the ornate torch holder and yanked it down with a groan. His eyes widened as the wall gave way to a dark opening, into which Amy vanished.

Exhaling slowly, he attempted to calm the angry quivering of his hands. The one person he trusted and leaned on for support turned out to be a traitor, and he needed to address her before thoughts of her betrayal dampened his enjoyment of the day's celebrations. After impatiently waiting for about five minutes, Ian slowly emerged from behind the imposing statue and pulled down the torch holder three times as Amy had done, still surprised as stone steps replaced the wall.

He ran his hands down the wall, which needed a good dusting, in an attempt to ascertain his balance in the dark. As his feet his the ground, he kept quiet and peered his head around the open doorway to see Amy, Irina, Irina's son, and four vaguely familiar strangers seated around a table. He couldn't make out what it was they were saying from here; he could only catch a word here or there when someone raised their voice. Eyes narrowed, he noticed Irina's son's hand linger slightly too long on Amy's shoulder, and emitted a growl. He might've been upset with her, but she was still _his_.

He was distracted now. When she obliviously grazed her fingers against his arm, he felt a vein in his forehead protrude. When he leaned in to her, eyes suspiciously drifting away from the papers he was looking at, Ian did everything he could not to punch the wall.

He needed to speak with her. _Now_.

Stepping out from behind the doorway, he took a confident step towards the table, eyes immediately meeting Irina's. Her eyes widened, jaw dropping, and Ian cursed under his breath as he realized he should've probably come armed. He really was going soft.

No one else noticed him except for Irina, who's eyes remained glued to his as he neared the table. To his surprise she stayed seated, but alert. What was the woman thinking? Everyone else was understandably captivated by Amy, who was explaining something to the table.

"Ian is a good leader!"

Ian stopped dead in his tracks as the last words he had expected to hear fell out of Amy's mouth.

"I might've lent my support to you if he were a tyrant, but I know and trust him, and he is the best king the Lucian kingdom has ever seen! I won't speak to him of this because I value your safety, but you _need_ to undo this grassroots movement and reverse this anti-Kabra sentiment because if anything happens to Ian Kabra you will have to deal with _me_ ," Amy declared, green eyes flashing as her hands gripped the table.

Bloody hell, she was sexy. Sexy, and mind-bogglingly confusing. Was she betraying him or not?

"Amy?" he murmured, flinching as five startled pairs of eyes moved to him.

"How did you get in here?" Irina's son (what _was_ his name?) snarled.

"Yes, yes, I shouldn't be here, I'm a fucking tyrant, down with the Kabras, duly noted," Ian offered dryly with a wave of his hand, "I need to speak with you, Amy."

"You don't talk to her," Nikolai spat, "if you want to talk, you talk to all of us."

"Nikolai, if you don't mind, I would like to speak to Ian alone, for a moment," Amy began calmly with a hint of indignation in her voice, rising from her seat and avoiding Ian's gaze as she walked towards him, the table erupting into hushed whispers.

"Amy, what is this?" Ian asked, his voice softer than he would've liked. He couldn't help it. Hearing Amy say all those things about him had quelled much of his anger.

Amy exhaled, teeth digging into her lower lip. "How did you find us?"

"I asked you a question first," Ian demanded, lifting an eyebrow.

"Nataliya, one of the palace seamstresses, brought me here one morning without telling me what it was," Amy started nervously, "they call themselves the 'Madrigal Ambassadors' because they want to emulate the peaceful rule in my kingdom, and they've been working to overthrow your family for years now—"

"So you've been plotting against me all this time? Fucking—"

"No, no, Ian, god no, do you _really_ trust me so little?" Amy shook her head, tone colored with hurt, "I've been coming to their meetings to tell them about all the radical changes you've been making for the better so that I can convince them to dissolve their movement!"

"But you hid this from me, Amy!" Ian growled, "what was I to think when I saw you disappear into a fucking wall a couple weeks ago?"

"You've known for _weeks_ and you stayed quiet?" Amy asked, incredulous, "is that really the kind of relationship we have? One where we hide things from each other?"

"Amy. You hid a _rebellion_ from me," Ian accused, folding his arms.

Amy paused. "You're right, I'm really sorry, Ian, I shouldn't have kept this a secret from you," Amy sighed sincerely, "the reason I didn't tell you as soon as I found out was because..." Amy trailed off, pursing her lips.

"Because what?" snapped Ian.

Amy ran her fingers through Ian's hair, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hated to admit it, but her touch calmed him. Stupid Amy. Manipulating him with her soft touches and her pretty eyes.

"Well, Ian, you kind of have a temper," Amy said sheepishly.

"I do not have a temper!" Ian barked, before realizing that he did indeed have a temper.

"You do, and I kind of like it," Amy grinned cheekily, "but I knew if I told you about this you might get angry and not handle the situation as well as you would've if you were level-headed".

Ian groaned. He saw her point.

"I'm still sorry, Ian, and I would've told you eventually, but it was-"

Ian captured her lips in a kiss. Fuck, he'd missed her so much.

"I forgive you," he murmured against her lips, begrudgingly pulling away, "and I'm sorry for being a little shit and ignoring you instead of being honest," he said with sincerity, "to be honest with you, I was more frightened by the possibility of losing you than losing my kingdom".

"I'm in love with you, Ian," Amy blurted, eyes widening in horror at her confession, "I mean, you don't have to say it back, and I'm not even sure if-"

"I'm _madly_ in love with you, if you haven't noticed," Ian threaded his fingers through Amy's, "and I dare you to finish that sentence".

"What is going on?" Nikolai hissed, "you two are together?"

Amy and Ian were lurched back into reality after being lost in each other for so long, and Amy pulled Ian to the table, head held high.

"Yes, we are," Amy nodded, smiling shyly at Ian, who grinned back.

"Well, sit down young man, we have lot of questions for you," Irina gestured at an empty seat. Ian contained a groan. It was too early in the morning for this.

* * *

Ian sighed in contentment, gazing across the palace grounds from his balcony. When Amy had written to him all those months ago about a kingdom-wide festival, he could only imagine what that might look. Now, he finally knew. It was all red banners and flowers and giggling children; even the nobility had descended from their sumptuous seclusions to peer into the lives of the common people.

"Did you mean what you said earlier this morning?" Ian asked, leaning downwards to nuzzle Amy's neck while he looped his arms around her waist.

"That you have a temper? Absolutely," Amy teased, laughing as Ian playfully nipped at her ear.

"No, you lemon, that you think I'm a good leader?" Ian wondered hopefully, his tone lowering at the end of the sentence.

Amy looked over her shoulder to smile at him fondly, "you're an unbelievable leader, Ian, your people are so lucky to have you".

Ian basked in her praise and relished the warm feeling in his stomach. "That means the world coming from the greatest Queen who ever lived," Ian said, eyes softening as he twisted a silken strand of Amy's coppery hair around his finger.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Kabra," Amy chuckled, leaning in for a kiss before she was startled by a serious knock on the door.

"Your Majesties, forgive me for intruding, but it's very urgent," Bickerduff's muffled voice declared from behind the door.

Ian frowned. He hadn't exactly forgiven the man yet. But if it was urgent. . .

"Come in," Amy called, one step ahead of Ian.

The door swung open and Bickerduff emerged, red and flustered as he dipped into a bow, features solemn as he presented a letter to Amy.

"This came for you from the Madrigal Kingdom, Your Grace, the messenger said to open it immediately," Bickerduff explained, bowing once more before he ducked out of the room, the slam of the door punctuating the graveness of his sentence.

Amy stared at the envelope in her hands, lifting her frightened jade gaze to meet Ian's.

"It's going to be alright, my love, open it," Ian smiled reassuringly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

Amy nodded, gulping as she carefully broke the Madrigal seal and pulled a letter out, letting the envelope fall to the floor. Ian studied her face, trying to remain calm for the both of them.

Amy turned white as a sheet as she allowed the letter to flutter to the floor, drinking in its bird-like movements as her lower lip began to quiver.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked gently, a frown taking residence on his face. He watched as Amy heaved a sigh, and took her hands in his.

"Grace is dead," she whispered.

* * *

HEY EVERYONE! okay so this chapter was very hastily written and i really didnt feel like reading over it again so i apologize for the wonky grammar/spelling/other abnormalities in advance! ok so first of all THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for a hundred and one reviews! i cant believe it! im so so happy! please keep them coming i know i dont reply to them all individually but they mean so much to me! to think that something i write makes someone else happy is absolutely wild! also, as to whether or not amy and ian 'did it', well, ;) i do like writing a bit of smut from time to time, but i feel a little uncomfortable publishing it here because most people on here are much younger than i am! thank you all so much for everything!


	18. Chapter 18: Going Rogue

"Have a letter sent to me as soon as you arrive, love," Ian said, "I need to know your safe". The King thumbed Amy's tawny locks as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, features softer than they were when he was around anyone else.

"I will," Amy replied with a wan smile, jewel-toned eyes full of sadness. Ian was concerned that she hadn't even shed a tear for her grandmother.

"Are you sure you can't come with me now?" Amy wondered aloud, burrowing her face in the crook of his neck.

With a pang of guilt, Ian nodded, gathering her in his arms before he had to let her go. Parting from her _hurt_. He bloody wished he could accompany her to the Madrigal Kingdom now to pay his respects, but alas, he was more than a man who simply loved Amy Cahill, and his duty to her was challenged by his duty to his kingdom.

And his duty to his family.

"I wish I could come with you, darling, but I have a few things to take care of before I leave," Ian gave Amy an apologetic smile as she quizzically cocked her head to the side. _Fuck_. He had to tell her. After what they'd discussed about honesty, he owed it to her. He knew that if the tables had been turned and she was keeping something like this from him (as she already had, mind you), he would be fuming. He _had_ been fuming.

"I have to tell you something, and you're not going to like it," Ian sighed as he threaded his fingers through Amy's while she looked at him with those big jade eyes, full of questions.

"What is it?" Amy demanded, features wrought with worry that Ian felt awful for causing.

"Before I join you in the Madrigal Kingdom, I'm going to go and see my family," Ian managed in a hasty breath, gulping as Amy stared at him in exasperation.

"Ian, are you _sure_ now is a good time to see your parents? Why don't you just have your sister sent for, if you miss her?" Amy suggested, shaking her head in disapproval.

"No, love, I need to sort this out now and actually speak to them," Ian said firmly, "and if I'm going to be away from the kingdom for several days I need another royal to sit in for me at parliamentary meetings."

"That's no excuse! Just have the debates postponed until you get back! Things are going so well for your kingdom and you're just going to invite your parents back into your life to mess it up?" Amy cried, pulling her hands out of Ian's, "you can't be serious, Ian!"

"I am serious!" Ian snapped back, eyes narrowing before they pooled with guilt at Amy's expression of hurt. "Look," Ian started softly, "I didn't want to tell you I'm going because I know you're just going to worry about me, and you have enough to worry about as it is". Ian watched Amy's eyes settle on a lone cloud in the sky. "But I want you to know because we _promised_ we wouldn't lie to each other, and we're a team, Amy."

"If we're a team, then why are you going rogue on this?" Amy whispered, "I'm just scared your mom or your father is going to say something to hurt you, or worse!"

"You went rogue and worked with people trying to usurp me!" Ian responded with impatience, eyes narrowing suspiciously, "and what do you mean 'or worse'?"

"For the last time, I was on _your_ side! And you said you forgave me, but clearly you haven't!" Amy retorted, eyes flashing with anger Ian didn't know she was capable of.

"Well, I'm bloody _trying_ , but you're making it difficult by being a fucking hypocrite and trying to make all my decisions for me! And just because I'm trying to forgive you doesn't mean I'm going to forget what you did!" Ian roared, feeling a twinge of remorse as she flinched at his words. He might've gone a bit too far.

"You're right, I did go rogue, but I promised I wouldn't do it ever again, and I thought you said you wouldn't either," Amy sniffled, turning her back towards Ian as the awkwardly spectating coach driver opened the door for her. "But fine, it's _your_ family and _your_ decision to make, so good luck with that," Amy mumbled, not even bothering to look back at Ian.

"Amy, we're not done having this conversation," Ian growled, tugging at her sleeve.

The Madrigal Queen pulled away, her pensive gaze settling on Ian as she observed him silently, lower lip quivering. "Just be safe, okay?" Amy asked.

Ian nodded wordlessly in return, hands tensely clasped behind his back as he watched her climb into the vehicle, avoiding his eyes. The guilty ache of his heart seemed to amplify, and he wanted nothing more than to just apologize and postpone his visit to the seaside. But he couldn't. He _needed_ to do this. He yearned for a happy future with Amy, and for his own peace of mind he needed to know _now_ if his family would be a part of that future. When it was over, he knew Amy would understand, but he just hated all this _fighting_. It wasn't them at all, and he didn't want her to leave feeling like this.

"Amy!" Ian yelled over the neighing of the horses as she reluctantly met his gaze. "Amy, I love you!" he called, cursing under his breath as the carriage began to plough forward and she got away from him. What if she hadn't heard him?

"I love you too!" she called back, head sticking out of the window as she waved in a frenzy, incomprehensibly beautiful, causing a comforting warmth to spread across Ian's body. He was terrified of seeing his parents again, worried about the future of his people, and anxious that the next time he saw Amy they would end up keeping secrets from each other and fighting again.

But she loved him, and Ian knew that whatever lay ahead of them, be it fighting families, politics, self-doubt, or even fucking dragons, he and Amy would be fine. If he could love her through lying mothers and wars and rebellions and century-old feuds, then he could love her through this.

He could love her through _anything_.

* * *

The gentle breeze whipped at Ian's face as he stepped out of the carriage, simultaneously filled with excitement and dread. He couldn't wait to see Natalie again, he longed to return to normalcy and hear her complain about a scuff on her shoe and lecture him on social ettiquette. But fucking hell, what he wouldn't give to skip the confrontation with mother and father.

The estate was tucked into the most deserted part of the kingdom, the edge that bordered the sea, shrouded by trees, hidden behind tall, imposing iron gates that took the strength of half-a-dozen men to open. The mansion itself was beautiful, boasting four stories with a dozen bedrooms, a massive ballroom and dining hall, a library teeming with obscure literary treasures, opening into a beach with shimmering crystal waters that lapped along pools of soft golden sand — a gilded prison.

Heaving a sigh, he nodded at the legion of guards dutifully perched along the gate, and they bowed in response. As the gates clattered open and Ian walked through, he felt like his stomach was falling out of his arse. What would he say when he saw Natalie? What if she thought he was a—

"Stupid prick!" Natalie cried through the iron bars, making a beeline for Ian and throwing herself into his arms, tiny frame wrapped around his much larger one as he lifted her off the ground in the tightest hug he had ever given anyone.

"I missed you too, Nat," he chuckled, whimpering as she leapt out of his embrace and began to pummel him with her fists.

"You fucking idiot, are you mental?" Natalie hissed, "'King Ian the Ruthless'? What were you thinking, humiliating us all in front of the entire kingdom like that?"

"Natalie! Language!" he scolded, gathering her fists in his hands, "and yes, it was stupid, I'm sorry, but — _Natalie, ouch, stop hitting me_!"

"I'll say what I _fucking_ like, you wanker!" the fifteen year old screeched back, thankfully ceasing her guerrilla-style warfare against her unarmed brother. "And that's all you have to say for yourself? 'I'm sorry'?"

"I'm _really_ sorry," Ian said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Natalie glared at him before smacking him on the chest. "That's not enough, you—"

"Alright, alright, just stop calling me names, and let me explain, yeah?" Ian replied frantically, holding his arms up in surrender.

Natalie relented, eyeing him with disdain as she folded her arms expectantly.

"I should've warned you properly about all this, but I didn't tell you because if mother and father found out you knew beforehand it could've gotten you in serious trouble," Ian explained, "I'm really sorry it was so sudden and humiliating, and I'm even sorrier that you have to be here with _mother_ , but it's the best plan I could devise in the time I had".

"You kept your promise, though," Natalie smiled fondly, tears uncharacteristically springing to her eyes, throwing Ian into a panic.

"Bloody hell, Nat, why are you crying?" Ian demanded, flustered as he wiped the tears away from his sister's bright amber eyes, so much like his.

"I'm not crying!" Natalie muttered with a roll of her tear-filled eyed, "I just— I never thought I would get to feel a bit like a normal person and do normal person things, you know? _Not_ that Natalie Kabra could be anything less than extraordinary, of course!"

Ian smiled, his own eyes growing slightly moist. He hated all these gooey feelings. Honestly, when had he gone so soft?

"You said you'd make sure I could leave the palace and just, you know, be a kid, and you gave me that, so thank you," the girl enveloped her brother in another hug, which he returned, planting a kiss on top of her head.

"Of course, Nat, you can stay here as long as you like," Ian gently replied, stroking her hair, before she jerked away.

"So I can't come home?" She blurted, eyes as wide as saucers.

Ian stared in surprise. "I mean, you can come home if you want to," Ian said with uncertainty, "but I thought you liked it here?"

"Oh, I do," Natalie began sheepishly, "but I'm getting ever so _bored_!" the girl moaned, and Ian chuckled.

"Fair enough," he grinned, "so you forgive me for all this, then?"

"Oh, _I_ forgive you, Ian," Natalie smirked mischievously, "mother and father, however..." she trailed off, taunting him by drawing two fingers along her throat in a cutthroat gesture.

"Bollocks," Ian muttered as Natalie ushered him into the estate.

* * *

"Read, read, read!" Isabel screeched, throwing her hands in the air, "all you can do is read!"

"You might complain less, if you picked up a book," Vikram muttered under his breath as he flipped to the next page of the play he was reading.

" _What_ was that?" the former Queen hissed, yanking the book out of her husband's hands, "how can you even _speak_ to your wife in such a manner, you godawful man?"

Two sets of amber eyes peeked into the library, their owners concealed behind the door which was open just a crack, accompanied by several armed guards lest Isabel attempt to bestow bodily harm upon them like she had happily done many times in the past.

"It's not too late to hop into the carriage and just leave them here," Natalie whispered over a chorus of high-pitched screams and deep-voiced bellows.

"No, I need to do this," Ian whispered back, accepting his sister's pitiful pat on the back as he emerged from his hiding place, pushing the door open and announcing himself by loudly clearing his throat.

The book in Isabel's hands dropped to the floor, along with her jaw, as her eyes widened in bewilderment, the look of surprise eventually rearranging into one of anger. While Vikram looked merely startled, Ian could practically see the steam billowing out of his mother's ears, her nostrils flaring as her mouth tightened into a white line.

He was fucking in for it.

" _YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A SON_!" Isabel roared, lunging for Ian as he had expected her to.

He barely flinched as his guards reflexively stepped forward, two burly men restraining her by pinning her wrists to her back so all she could do was flail her legs and yell obscenities.

"You have ruined the Kabra name!" Isabel spat, making Ian wince. Behind his carefully maintained front of indifference Ian was fighting the urge to apologize to his mother, to obey her as he had done all his life.

"I should've smothered you in your crib, you little-"

"Isabel! Enough!" Vikram thundered, slamming his fist against the table, causing Ian and Natalie to jump. Ian had never heard his father exclaim anything so loud, let alone to his mother. Vikram Kabra was a frightening man, but he managed to be frightening using his inside-voice.

Isabel took deep breaths, wild eyes still slanted as they focused on Ian, lips in a sneer. He was trying not to look at her, but it was hard when her words still hung in the room, having cut fresh wounds in his heart.

 _She wanted to smother you in your crib_.

Ian sniffed. There were mothers that held their children to quixotic expectations, mothers that were selfish, and mothers that never showed their children affection. In addition to being all three, Ian's mother was homicidal.

"Why have you come here, Ian?" his father asked in a tone so calmly curious, Ian almost felt guilty for having him brought here with Isabel.

"Have you come to apologize?" Isabel growled, still shaking with anger. Fucking hell, was that where Ian had gotten his temper from?

"No," Ian began, "I've-"

"Oh, so you've come to tell us you need our help," Isabel emitted a sly, unnerving laugh, "I'm not surprised you are a failure as King, after the disrespect you've shown your family".

"Actually, the kingdom is doing very well," Ian said through gritted teeth, trying not to ball his hands into fists, trying not to show her how she was getting to him. He might've shown her blind obedience all his life, but things were different now. He was a King.

"Is it, now!" Isabel exclaimed, tone dripping with sarcasm. Bloody bitch.

"Yes, we have ended the war and implemented the Cahill Treaty," Ian said coldly, noticing his father's eyebrows rise in evident surprise, "trade is good, we're creating more employment, and the crown is more stable and powerful than ever now that we've demilitarized the nobles".

Vikram and Isabel stared dumbly at Ian, speechless, while Natalie indulged in a proud smirk.

"How did you get parliament to pass the Cahill Treaty?" Vikram demanded in incredulity, "I don't believe this".

"Well, father, you might have gotten them to pass it if you'd actually _tried_ ," Ian retorted with snark he wouldn't have dared expressed towards either of his parents a few short months ago.

"I suppose you're right," Vikram nodded in agreement, much to Ian's surprise. He really had misjudged his father.

"I've come to visit because Grace Cahill has passed away," Ian explained.

"Good riddance," Isabel snorted as Ian shot her a glare.

"Father, I need to you sit in parliament in my stead, as I will be attending the funeral," Ian commanded, "you don't have to make any contributions, its all just procedural. I would have the debates postponed but we are in a critical period in our development and I will not have it hindered by my absence".

Vikram appeared to be deep in thought, fingers grazing his chin as his deep amber eyes had a faraway look in them, pointed towards the ground. Ian waited for a response impatiently, wearing a frown as his mother continued to prattle on about Ian being a disgrace to the family. Ian learned lots of new synonyms for the words "fail" and "shame".

"Ahem," Ian cleared his throat awkwardly in an attempt to catch his father's attention, "father?"

"Oh, yes, well, I was thinking that I would like to pay my respects to the Cahills, as well," Vikram said, business-like, grimacing as Isabel launched into another tirade.

"Oh, of course, you want to pay your bloody respects," the woman cackled, "is that what you call staring at that _whore_ , Hope Cahill, like a lovesick fool, you imbecile?"

"You will not speak of the Cahills like that," Ian threatened, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Isabel laughed, "like father, like son! Are you _still_ in that vixen's trap? What's her name, the daughter? Oh yes! Amy!"

"Don't you dare fucking say her name," Ian growled, anger flaring up as Isabel laughed again, muttering obscenities to herself.

Ian snuck a glance at Natalie, who had paled considerably since they had entered the room. With a sigh he took a few steps back, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze, watching her gulp in response and offer him an unconvincingly reassuring smile.

"Well, father, I'm afraid you're going to have to sit in parliament," Ian announced authoritatively, with courage he didn't know he had. "Clearly, you are the only one fit to do so," Ian remarked grimly, eyes shifting to his mother, who bristled but fortunately stayed silent, chest heaving as if she were trying to control herself.

"I could take your place," Natalie mused, lashes fluttering nervously as her eyes moved from her brother to her father, and back again.

"You?" Isabel and Vikram chorused, equally baffled by Natalie's proposition, and understandably so. No woman in Lucian history had sat in parliament. Despite all the economic and social progress that had been made in the Lucian Kingdom in the past few weeks, Ian didn't know if it was ready to handle such a radical change.

"A princess in parliament," Ian mused, gazing at his sister, who nodded affirmatively.

"Ian, if your reign is meant to be fair and peaceful then you need to have women in government," Natalie shrugged, casually compelling, "it's as simple as that, and I know you agree".

All three Kabras stared at Ian as he deliberated. He absolutely agreed with his sister, it was ridiculous that men were the only ones to make decisions. He also knew she was smart and capable and thought she would fare well in a debate. With her sharp tongue and common sense, she would command the room with ease. The question was whether the nasty old men in parliament would listen to her, whether they would give her the respect she deserved.

Ian looked at her expectant face, her features nearly replicas of his, but smaller and more delicately feminine. Her eyes shone with a sense of childlike wonder he had failed to cling to, but still contained traces of wisdom beyond her years. Ian realized wistfully that his baby sister had grown up.

"Very well," he agreed with a nod as Natalie's face broke into the biggest smile he had ever seen, causing him to mirror it, "but you have to be especially careful— don't say anything that you think they might _really_ disagree with, and don't-"

"This is absurd!" Isabel declared, "Natalie, you're a _princess_ , this is not appropriate at all!"

"Oh, shut up, mother," Natalie snapped, evoking a theatrical gasp from Isabel, "it's about time those old misogynists saw what a princess can do."

Ian grinned at his sister, and he swore he saw his father smile, just for a moment. "Alright then, Natalie, some guards will escort you back to the palace on horseback, and father, we'll be on our way to the Madrigal Kingdom in the carriage," Ian nodded at the guards who restrained Isabel, "and you lot will keep her under control until we're gone".

Isabel shuddered with rage, struggling against the painful grips of the neanderthals that had their grubby hands on her. She watched her husband and children leave the room side-by-side, leaving her _alone_ , a Queen-turned-prisoner. Oh, they would be sorry when she got her hands on them.

"Unhand me, you dare disrespect your Queen!" Isabel roared, trying to pull her wrists away despite the men holding her down having muscles that bulged almost pornographically.

"You are not our Queen," one of the men grumbled, while the other snickered disrespectfully.

Isabel saw red.

 _You are not our Queen._

She stopped struggling, and simply waited to be released, which didn't take long.

Stone-faced, she made her way gracefully down the hallway, wrinkling her nose as she ducked into the kitchen. She hadn't been inside a kitchen in _years_. It was a large room with stone walls, warm from the fire in the corner. Isabel gulped, watching the flames flicker, their dangerously seductive dance reflected in her honey colored pupils, which were dilated. She grinned maniacally, sticking her finger into the flame, flinching and pulling it back immediately to observe the charred flesh.

Ian thought he was so powerful.

Well, she would show him that there was nothing more powerful than fire.

* * *

Hope took a sip of her blueberry tea, wincing as rivulets of the burning liquid trickled down her throat. That had been way too hot.

Wrapping her fingers tightly around the hot mug, she shivered under her purple pashmina, holding her drink up to her face so that the steam would warm her up a little bit. Her eyes felt red and raw, as did her throat, as did her heart. As she watched Amy bustle about the gardens in the moonlight, ordering servants to move arrangements of flowers and chairs into a respectable setting, Hope realized that she had no more tears to give.

It was past midnight, she was freezing, and her mother was dead, to boot.

 _Go to bed, let Amy take care of this, she knows what she's doing!_

Hope could practically hear Grace's unyielding tone in her head now, and she was right, as always. As Hope watched Amy, who was clearly far more tired than Hope was after her long journey back from the Lucian Kingdom, she felt a burst of pride. At only eighteen she had ended a war and brought peace to a kingdom, and now, hair pulled back in a ponytail, eyes tired but glimmering with wisdom and patience, she was planning her own grandmother's funeral, when it really should've been Hope taking care of it all. The girl hadn't even shed a _tear_. Hope watched Amy offer the elderly florist a drink of water, and smile graciously as he accepted it with gratitude.

Hope smiled. She had made that.

Hope didn't know when she was going to be okay again. But Amy was here now, and she was full of hope _and_ grace.

"Ian!" Amy yelled across the grass, clumsily trudging across the fields. Hope frowned. _Ian?_

Hope glanced over her shoulder, and 'surprised' didn't even _begin_ to encompass how she felt. Vikram Kabra and his son Ian had emerged from one of the palace's back entrance into the gardens, and her daughter had embraced Vikram's son and proceeded to burst into tears.

 _What on Earth is going on?_ Hope wondered, her eyes wandering over to Vikram, who looked as astonished as she felt.

And when he met her gaze, she was suddenly transported back twenty years, when _she_ had been the one in the arms of a Kabra.

* * *

Wow okay so the past couple days I've _really_ been into this story, like i love it so much but also i just want to finish it so i can write a new multi chapter u feel. anyway, 'lemon' is basically very mild British slang for someone whos being foolish! and you guys were right, that whole betrayal situation was faaaaar too smooth back there, i shouldve fleshed it out more, and i tried to in this chapter. i think i'm just so ready to get to the end of this story that i'm wrapping up all the arcs in a neat little bow when i should honestly do a better job with plot development! sorry about that and thank u for pointing it out :))) but we're NEARING THE END OMG there should be two more chapters and an epilogue i think! im so excited! thank you so much for the reviews and all of your support! i loooove to hear what u think!


	19. Chapter 19: Closets and the Color Red

**_20 Years Ago_**

 _Hope Cahill flashed Vikram Kabra the wickedest of grins with a devilish glint in her remarkably jade eyes that not even Lilith could have managed. Erupting into giggles, she looped her fingers through his silk tie and pulled him into a conveniently located storage cupboard._

 _"A cupboard?" he mused, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, "you are far tackier than I expected"._

 _"Oh, please," She retorted slyly, tightening her grip on his tie and yanking him down to her height, "you're one to talk, when you're in here with me a month before your wedding!"_

 _"To be fair," Vikram began teasingly, hands eagerly dropping to Hope's waist, "the wedding is happening very much against my will, much like this little cupboard rendezvous." Vikram pulled Hope closer to him so he could feel the familiarly soft curves of her body against him._

 _"Well, you're free to go if it pleases you, my King," Hope murmured against Vikram's lips, emitting a sharp gasp as she felt his strong hands fasten around her wrists, pinning her to the wall in an act of possessiveness._

 _"Nonsense, and leave you to ward off the advances of that strange Pierce fellow?" Vikram's tone dropped dangerously low, lips grazing her cheek as his warm breath tickled her ear._

 _"You know I'm yours, don't you?" Hope whispered, a sadness to her affirmation as she became lost in the golden haze of his eyes. His mouth dropped down to her throat, causing her to shiver with pleasure._

 _"Say it again," he ordered, nipping at her collarbone._

 _"I'm yours," she breathed, barely allowed to finish her proclamation as he kissed her. It was urgent and chaotic, each kiss heated and frantic, a reminder that their time together was running out. She could feel all of his rage towards his family, his kingdom, his fiancée, even, as his teeth tugged at her lips. Hope's nails dug angrily into his back in response, making him moan as his tie came undone, but neither of them could be bothered._

 _When Hope untangled herself from Vikram, all swollen lips and flushed cheeks, she wrestled with the impulse to scream and punch him all at once._

 _"It's not fair," she decided, slipping her hands around his neck, fingers threading through his tie to restore it to an intricate knot._

 _"Perhaps we should run away together?" Vikram proposed, hardly joking as the traces of mirth in his eyes concealed his longing for a "yes", indecision warring on his handsome features._

 _"So you're really going to marry her?" Hope asked, the question sounding more like a feeble attempt to convince herself that it was so. Her eyes met his in a scorching confrontation as he tucked a lock of flaming hair behind her ear._

 _"The Lucian Crown is nearing bankruptcy," Vikram repeats for the umpteenth time, "and the Vesper-Hollingsworth's are the wealthiest family in the land"._

 _"Yes, yes, I know," Hope groaned, before growing quiet, gaze flickering from Vikram to the ground. "What if you married me, instead?" Hope suggested with a wistful smile, eyes downcast as Vikram responded with a chuckle that failed to secrete how despondent he really was._

 _He gazed at her in silent wonder, thumb tracing the line of her jaw. His fingers grasped her chin, gently tilting her face upwards. "If only I could, my Queen," he replied with quiet sincerity, eyes boring into hers as if she were his life raft. Ironically enough, she could never be his queen._

 _"Well, I guess Lucian Red would clash awfully with my hair, anyway," Hope supposed cheerily, failing to conceal the disappointed resignation in her tone as her hands transversed over Vikram's shoulders, lips tracing his jawline._

 _"Hope Cahill," the Lucian King sighed, nuzzling her neck before he pressed a kiss to the base of her throat, "you have already ruined me"._

* * *

 ** _Back in the Present_**

Hope's apprehension melted into a faint smile as she saw her daughter manage a laugh through her tears at something the Kabra boy said to her. While the courtship of two royals remained a complex political issue, Hope decided she would worry about that in a day or two. For now, Amy needed someone that could make her smile like that.

The former Madrigal Queen's gaze drifted towards Vikram, and knowing him she could almost guarantee that the thoughts running through his mind were identical. Despite what anyone might've thought, he was a good man, and while the odds never tended to be in his favor he did his best to be a good King and a good father. She studied him from a distance as he stood with his hands gracefully clasped behind his back, observing the perplexing exchange of young love. Hope noted how he was still as handsome as the day she had first met him over two decades ago, not worn by age but by the cruelty of the circumstances life had placed him in.

He looked at her, features stoic as he offered her a bow of his head, and she irritatingly felt the faintest of flutters in her stomach as she bowed her own head in acknowledgement.

Hope loved Arthur with every ounce of her being, and she knew that his love for her was timeless and unconditional. The two children he had sired were the best things in her life, and she would give her life for either one of them, and could never wish that her life had gone differently.

Yet sometimes she couldn't help but wonder what it might have been like if Vikram Kabra had been _hers_.

* * *

hello! i hope this clears up some things about hope and vikram! this isnt a proper chapter (we still have two more and an epilogue to go) but i really did want to delve into their relationship a little more, and what i had planned didnt quite cut it! i love hope and vikram so so so much, and i think theyre quite different to amy and ian - at least how i try to portray them. hope is a wildcard and super reckless but still super intelligent, while vikram is refined and graceful as expected, but very reserved and a tad shy, even. let me know what you thought! i love you guys!


	20. Chapter 20: First Woman in Parliament

Red had always been Isabel's color.

She looked phenomenal in red. To be fair, she looked phenomenal in every color, but it was as if the gods had descended to the Earth and crafted the pigment out of blood and fire for her personal use. Red had been _made_ for her.

She gracefully uncapped a golden tube of lipstick, sweeping the deep carmine expertly along the edges of her full, bow-shaped lips before placing it back on the table with a faint flourish. The corners of her mouth turned upwards — so slightly, most would hesitate to call the minute facial movement a smile.

Isabel refused to truly smile unless it was absolutely necessary — there was no need for her to abet the ghastly aging process.

As she admired herself in the mirror, pausing to preen at each new, unsurprisingly flattering angle, she noted for the umpteenth time how the deep crimson of her lips complemented the luminous cream of her skin and the deep honey of her generously lashed, deep-set eyes. Their color was probably better described as that of the whisky that clung to her husband's breath the few times he had chosen to lay with her.

With a roll of said eyes, the former Queen scoffed at how she seemed to be the only one in the estate that possessed the skill to fix her hair. Imagine, a _Queen_ fixing her own hair. Uttering a string of contemptuous mutters under her breath, she swept her gleaming chestnut locks into a sleek chignon, taking a step back to appreciate her gown, an elegant _red_ sleeveless number with a surplice neckline and an empire waist.

Her heavily lined eyes narrowed with disdain as they lingered on the reflection of the Lucian crest engraved on the wall behind her. In all their stillness, the serpents seemed to taunt her, admonishing her for becoming _this_. A fallen Queen. A _has-been_. Because red, you see, happened to be the color of the kingdom that had slipped out of her grasp at the fault of the cruel tricks of time.

She spun on her heels, exiting the room and gliding down the lengthy corridor, wrists upturned in a subtle show of femininity, a contrastingly callous darkness in her determined gaze. She came to a halt at the end of the hallway, where it both dipped and extended into a spiral staircase, lined with flaming torches that illuminated the steps.

She paused.

The estate was silent, but the spirited crackle of the fire struck her ears.

Red also happened to be the color of fire.

Isabel lifted a torch out of its holder, observing the seemingly sentient flicker of the flames, cocking her head the side and noticing how her cheek glowed with warmth. She thought fire was fascinating. Not because it was glorious to look at, but because it was powerful. Isabel had spent much of her life yielding to the demands of men that thought they knew better than her — her father, her husband, and now her son. She had lived in the constraints society had placed on her, that life had placed on her, and she despised it. For every lick of beauty and intelligence that had been bestowed upon her, for every morsel of ambition, and for the fact that she knew she was deserving of power and glory beyond perhaps even her own abstraction, was an obstacle — be it a redheaded witch, a patriarchal tradition, or a disobedient child.

But things were different when it came to fire. _She_ was its mistress, and it yielded to her unquestioningly.

Aristocratic features as impassive as a brick wall, Isabel floated back down the hallway, retracing her steps one last time, allowing the flamed torch to kiss each tapestry on the wall before she dropped it to the floor. She hesitated for only a minute to admire her handiwork — how the flames coiled around each tendril of cloth, licked at every shard of glass, and lapped at each ornate wooden surface. A sinister chuckle escaped her lips as she descended the stairway, before it was burned to a crisp, of course.

 _"Fire! Fire!"_

 _"Everyone out!"_

 _"We need water! Bring every bucket you can find! "_

Isabel slipped past every frantic servant and boisterous guard in her path. A symphony of shrill screams and crackling flames would be the soundtrack of her great escape. The line of guards normally flanking the gates had dispersed, all caught up in the futile efforts to rescue servants and put out the flames.

Amidst the chaos, no one seemed to notice the dark-haired woman mount a black horse and slip past the gates.

No one except a small, mousy-haired scullery maid that had been hiding in some bushes.

* * *

"Hi."

Ian's tired amber eyes flickered towards the door as something fluttered in his stomach instinctively at the sound of her voice. She was leaning against the doorframe of the guest bedroom he was staying in, achingly lovely in a yellow nightgown, auburn hair luminous in the candlelight as a shy smile played on her lips.

"Hello," he responded, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile as he inclined his head towards the bed, inviting her to sit, "I'm afraid I'm far too tired for a verbal spar at the moment".

Amy rolled her eyes, a blush crawling up her cheeks as she awkwardly accepted. Her nose wrinkled endearingly as she slipped into her thoughts and elicited a pregnant pause. The initial relief and delight that both of them had been awash with at being reunited faded quickly when Amy sobered after crying into his chest, pulling away with a haste that quite frankly offended him. Ian would be lying if he said that he didn't still feel pinpricks of anger at her betrayal, even though he could understand why she'd felt the need to keep such a secret. Luke knows, he might've even done the same in her position. But while they had affirmed their love for each other upon last parting, the argument they had been having remained fresh and staunchly unresolved in Ian's mind, and clearly in hers as well.

"How'd it go with your parents?" Amy inquired quietly, spellbinding eyes lifting to meet his, naturally leaving him momentarily dumbfounded. Ian almost huffed in annoyance. The effect she had on him was stupidly excessive and gave her a ridiculous advantage.

"Quite well," Ian shrugged, leaning back into the headboard of his bed and swinging his legs onto the mattress in a graceful motion. "Natalie is actually going to attend parliament in my stead until I return," Ian proudly informed her, grinning at the look of delighted surprise that bloomed on her face.

"A woman in Lucian parliament, Ian, that's incredible!" She beamed.

"It is," he agreed, before the two quietened once more, Amy gnawing at her lower lip as Ian folded his arms, staring absent-mindedly the floor.

"Amy-"

"Ian-"

They began in chorus before sharing a private smile. Ian nodded for her to go first.

"Well," she blinked, "I think I know what I've done wrong, and I feel genuine remorse for it," Amy paused, teeth digging into her full lower lip. "I just don't know what I could say or do to make it better".

Oddly enough, her self-awareness seemed to quell a little bit of the uncertain anger that crackled in his stomach.

"I really am sorry," Amy professed, eyes soft with sincerity, "again, I'm sorry I hid the truth from you, and I'm really sorry that I didn't trust your judgement".

He observed how she wore an expression of childish guilt, her wide-eyed innocence reminding him of a younger, shier Amy with a clumsier tongue whom he had known three years ago.

He missed her.

Ian was pensive as he caught Amy's nervous gaze. She had come such a long way since she had literally stumbled into his life, and the role of the powerful matriarch she had grown into suited her well. Not to mention, she had been the reason behind so much of his own growth. Ian recalled a time not so long ago when his mouth had perpetually tasted of bourbon.

"Ian?" Amy murmured, crawling next to him so he could feel the familiar warmth of her body pressed against his, his nostrils relishing the complex bouquet of her personal scent of which he could discern notes of vanilla, rainwater, and lavender.

"I was just thinking about how you used to have a stutter," he remembered fondly, gathering her in his arms, allowing the silken mass of her red gold hair to run through his fingers as he placed a kiss on the nape of her neck.

"Oh Madeleine, don't remind me," Amy groaned, laying her head on the hardened panes of his chest, "those were dark days indeed!"

"I liked it," Ian chuckled, fingers still gliding through her hair as he regarded her, "but I think I like you even more, now".

Amy lips lifted into a smile that made his heart wrench and the sun seethe with jealousy. "I like you more now, too," she decided, lacing her fingers through his.

He paused again, gathering his thoughts. Amy wasn't his other half, and he wasn't hers. He believed that a person could be whole on their own, but Amy had been the one to teach him this lesson with her self-possession and inner strength.

At the same time, now that he had tasted her he was an _addict_ , and he would be bloody using for the rest of his life. He had such a dependence on her that he feared more for her life and safety than for his own, and it was the infinity of his affection that assured him that his unwavering trust of her would repair itself, and possibly even expand. Their future, he was certain, would be rife with heated arguments and consequently impassioned declarations of love and forgiveness.

But fucking hell, he wouldn't want it any other way.

"I accept your apologies," he said firmly, taking note of the glint of hope in her eyes. "But I think to _really_ accept it, I'll just need a bit of time?" He gulped, leaning down to look at her properly.

She was studying his hands as if they were ancient artifacts she had excavated, fingers rubbing his knuckles, tenderly tracing the lines of his palms and the edges of his nails. Lifting his hands to her lips. she kissed his fingertips.

"For you, I have all the time in the world," she whispered, making his knees go weak.

"Good," he breathed, lips crashing down on hers.

* * *

"Thank you all for being here today," Amy started, the hum of conversation in the garden coming to a sudden halt. "Many of you have travelled very far to join my family as we pay our respects to my grandmother, and for that we thank you from the bottom of our hearts".

Amy startled even herself with the grace and composure of her address, if she said so herself, and felt a wave of sadness. Grace would've been proud of her being able to speak so confidently before a sea of important people. Her eyes drifted to Dan, who was sitting front and center, between Uncle Fiske and her dad. The dweeb offered her a watery smile, flashing her a thumbs up.

Amy took a deep breath. This might've been Grace's funeral, but it was more than an opportunity to honor her legacy. It was a political opportunity. There were very few pretenses under the monarchy and nobility of all the kingdoms would assemble themselves to hear her speak, and Amy needed to make sure she said something worthwhile. The greatest tribute she could pay to Grace was peace.

"I used to have a very prominent stutter, and a few years ago I could never have brought myself to stand before all of you and make a speech," Amy admitted as her mother nodded along encouragingly. "I didn't understand why the confidence and dignity that Grace embodied hadn't been passed down to me, and it frustrated me to no end".

Amy paused once more, concerned by her own frankness before realizing that each member of the crowed was focused on her, collectively curiosity. Queens did not tend to speak of their weaknesses.

It was time to change that.

"Whenever I shared my qualms with Grace, she would all but laugh," Amy recalled fondly, lips twitching into a nostalgic smile. "Grace taught me that inner-strength isn't inherited, but learned. It is present within every one of us, and the tumultuous nature of life leads us to realize that we are capable of far more than we could have ever imagined."

The Madrigal Queen snuck a look at Ian, who was sat in the third row, his thoughtful golden eyes pouring into hers, hands tented as he leaned forward in his seat, unduly supportive in light of what had been happening between them. Warmth rippled through her as he nodded reassuringly upon catching her eye, the corner of his mouth lifting into a grin to reveal gorgeous dimples.

With a gulp, Amy continued her address. "We have proven that we are capable of protecting our realms by ceasing to war against each other and instead joining forces in the war against generations of Janus, Ekaterina, Lucian, Tomas, and Madrigal that have propagated disagreement and division amongst their people." Amy watched her mother exchange a smile with her father before both of their eyes settled on her, brimming with trust and pride. A coil of affection grew in her stomach.

"I see Grace in all of you. In the love and pride with which you speak of your kingdoms, in every policy and judgement and even in every act of war. All of you encapsulate the bravery and inner-strength I saw in Grace, and there is no better way for us to honor her than through the invitation of a new era of peace and prosperity. Thank you," Amy finished and bowed her head, the sound of applause distant as a hazy picture of Grace, smiling blue eyes twinkling with mischief, formed in her mind.

 _You can rest in peace now Grace, I think I've finally got things under control._

* * *

While Natalie favored her father's coloring, she realized she never looked more like her mother than she did now. Her hair was pinned back and her dress was a startling shade of scarlet. She wore a look of regal indifference, one that she had seen her mother wear to make grown men cower with fear.

Her features wrought into a scowl as she reminded herself with a pang that she needed to stop comparing herself to her mother. Mother — no, _Isabel_ — had yet to demonstrate behaviors that Natalie needed to try emulating. Her mother had lost herself in the haze of her own greed and vainglory, and Natalie would not do the same.

Natalie turned away from her reflection in the mirror, lip curling with contempt.

Isabel held a sense of entitlement that Natalie knew she had always been dangerously close to possessing herself. Isabel lied without remorse, manipulating and threatening people with an ease that Natalie could unfortunately relate to. Isabel was also the vainest person Natalie had met, and-

Natalie's amber eyes widened in surprise as they traced the outline of a graceful figure in the doorway of her room-

Isabel was also _here_.

"What are you doing here?" Natalie demanded, voice shaking as she trialed her newfound defiance of her mother.

"Natalie, don't be a silly girl, do you really think you're qualified to speak before the members of parliament?" Isabel sniffed, floating into the room so composed Natalie could hardly picture her being restrained by guards back at the seaside estate.

"I know I am," Natalie retorted over anxiety rippling through her. Her stomach felt like it was sinking, telling her to stop talking back to her mother or she would be punished.

"Darling, you don't have to do everything your disrespectful brother tells you to," Isabel offered, her tone radiating warmth as she approached Natalie with her arms outstretched, her features arranged in a gentle smile that chilled Natalie to the bone.

Natalie's eyes flew wide open as she saw the thick ribbons in her mother's right hand, a gag in her other.

"You've really lost it, haven't you," Natalie whimpered, eyebrows furrowed. The princess attempted to side step her mother and made a beeline for the door, swearing as she felt slender fingers wrap tightly around her forearm, long nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in her bronzed skin.

"Let me go!" she called, as she felt bounds tighten around her wrists, wincing as they cut into her flesh, "I don't understand why you have such a problem with all of the changes Ian's making to the kingdom! He's a great King! Great things are happening in our time, why can't you accept that?" The dark-haired girl wondered hysterically, flailing her bound wrists as her mother tied her ankles together to render her immobile.

"I can do greater things Natalie," Isabel murmured darkly, cold fingers grazing Natalie's skin to make her shiver, "I was restrained from doing great things when I was Queen, but it is not too late for me. If you want to betray me the way your brother has, then so be it."

Natalie began to scream for help, until her mother fastened a handkerchief tightly between her lips, tying the gag tightly in place with a roll of her eyes.

"I can't believe I had such foolish children," Isabel drawled, giving her wide-eyed daughter an impassive once-over before turning away.

She silently made her way down the hallway, hands shaking ever so slightly as she stepped into the carriage her daughter was supposed to take to attend parliament. The driver frowned at her in confusion.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped, shooting him a glare that could've shattered glass.

He mumbled an intelligible reply, turning his attention to the reigns as the vehicle began to move along the road.

Isabel held back a frown. Vikram and Ian had always regarded her with disrespect, and while she was infuriated by both of their disloyalty, she could not say she was surprised.

Vikram had never been hers. He belonged to Hope Cahill, a sniveling peacekeeper, and now her son belonged to the red whore's daughter.

But Natalie had been different.

From the moment she had been able to identify Isabel as her mother, she gazed at her with unconditional adoration and admiration in the deep set amber eyes she had inherited from her. She had copied and commended every choice Isabel ever made, and had been unwaveringly loyal to Isabel.

With a sneer, she recalled the way her daughter had just suggested that she had "lost it". How had Ian managed to infect her his weak, fanciful notions of peace and equality?

She might not have looked it, but she was far older, and resultantly far wiser than her son. She knew what was best for the kingdom and what was best for the Kabras. Power and glory were synonymous to their name, and she would not let it slip through her fingers as Ian attempted to establish a more egalitarian society that undermined her authority.

The carriage halted to a stop before parliament, the door swinging open before the grand marble steps.

With a flick of her wrists, Isabel held her skirts up so they brushed against her ankles, ascending the steps to parliament. Her mind buzzed with excitement. She was going to be the first woman in parliament.

She couldn't help the grin that forced itself upon her lips as she stood before the doors. This was it.

With a deep breath, she walked through, noting dozens of wrinkled, old, male faces twisting in shock at the sight of her in the chamber of parliament.

"Greetings gentlemen, I am aware it is highly unusual for me to be here," Isabel began with a regal sweep of her arms, quelling the murmurs that had arisen upon her entry. "My son Ian, has gone to the Madrigal Kingdom to pay his respects to the late Grace Cahill," Isabel allowed the old hag's name to roll off her tongue, enjoying the looks o disapproval that many of the men wore at the mention of Ian's whereabouts.

"I apologize for disrupting your regular proceedings, but I have also come to discuss a matter concerning the King that I feel you will all find to be of great interest, as it proves that he is unfortunately unfit to rule," Isabel trilled, allowing her words to hang in the air, enjoying their faint echo in the domed room. She smiled as she was met by some looks of intrigue, and others of disbelief.

"Your King is in love with Amy Cahill, the Queen of the Madrigal Kingdom," Isabel proclaimed, holding up the many yellowing pages of Ian's undelivered letter to Amy, "they have been writing love letters to each other for a year, and I am certain that his loyalties lie with her".

A smirk curled on Isabel's lips as the room went silent for a moment. And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

hello my loves! im not gonna lie to you guys i really am losing interest in this story, and im glad were nearing the end because ive learned a lot in the process of writing it (this has been like my first novella length work) that im really excited to apply to the next fic i write. i also apologize for any typos like theres SO many in this fic because i dont edit my writing and write in frantic bursts lmao. anyway, please leave me a review telling me what you think and as always, thank you so much for reading!


	21. Chapter 21: A Mission

A/N: okay, so just to clarify this part of the story takes place AFTER Isabel sets the fire but before Isabel has reached Natalie. the fire was set at dawn, the funeral is supposed to take place at a similar time, while the parliamentary address is meant to be in the afternoon. i realized how inconsistent and confusing I've been with the distance between kingdoms and just the timing of things, so i apologize! on with the chapter!

* * *

"You were marvelous up there, sweetheart," Hope clutched Amy to her chest, a thickness to her voice that suggested she was holding back tears.

Amy savored the sense of security her mother's tight embrace offered, tilting her head downwards to bury her face in the crook of her mother's neck the way she had done as a little girl. In her hasty decision to go it all alone, Amy seemed to have forgotten the fact that her family was her rock, and that they would do anything to support her. And yet, it felt like something was missing was missing. The hug should have felt almost suffocating at this point, as a second pair of arms would have fastened themselves around her and her mother before delivering a chuckle and a cheeky quip.

"You made your grandmother so proud," Hope sighed, the warmth of her compliment combined with her gentle strokes in Amy's hair causing the Madrigal Queen to blink away tears of her own.

"Thanks, mom, you made her proud too," Amy smiled into Hope's shoulder, before pulling away.

A tender silence fell between mother and daughter as Hope fiddled with the silver buttons on the sleeves of Amy's black dress, her display of maternity extended by the fingers she combed through Amy's hair.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," a deep voice interrupted in received pronunciation, snapping Hope out of her trance.

Amy watched curiously as her mother locked eyes with Vikram Kabra, lips slightly parted in surprise before her features settled for an impenetrable grimace.

"You just did, Vikram," she responded stiffly, and Amy spotted Ian over Vikram's shoulder, looking as puzzled as Amy felt. There was a tension between the two that Amy could not place, or even surmise the origin of. Amy frowned as Vikram's eyes seemed to drop momentarily to her mother's lips.

No, Amy had probably just imagined that.

"My apologies. May I speak with you, Hope?" he asked, politely offering her his arm.

Hope stared at it blankly, a silence descending upon the pair that felt extremely odd in light of such a simple question. Amy also realized how inappropriate it was that they had addressed each other with such familiarity, using "Hope" and "Vikram" instead of their respective titles.

Her mother responded with a sharp nod, leading Vikram away from Ian and Amy. Amy noticed how Vikram's arm fell to his side, unaccepted.

She sighed as Ian's fingers laced through her own, her full attention quickly falling into his possession.

"Thank you for coming," she smiled up at him, giving his hand a squeeze. Her heart began to race as he returned her smile. He was so infuriatingly beautiful.

"But of course, your grandmother was a great stateswoman, like you," Ian said earnestly, "I have great respect for you both."

The blood rushed to Amy's cheeks at the compliment, and she was about to respond when the sound of her mother's voice slightly raised caused her focus to tilt back to her mother and Vikram, who appeared to be engaged in a confrontation of sorts.

"What do you think _they_ have to discuss?" Amy whispered, jutting her chin forward to indicate Hope and Vikram.

Ian exhaled exasperatedly through his nostrils, eyes narrowed in his father's direction. "Bloody hell, he needs to move on," he muttered under his breath.

The insinuation of some sort of unprofessional relationship between Hope and Vikram caused Amy's eyebrows to fly into her hairline. "What?" she demanded, jaw falling to the floor, "what do you _mean_ by that?"

Oh Madeleine, her mom? And _Vikram Kabra_?

"I'm pretty sure my dad used to fancy your mum," Ian grumbled, Amy's eyes widening in surprise, her intensifying expression of shock causing Ian to delve into a frantic explanation.

"I'm not completely certain, of course, but based on things _my_ mum has said and the way he's spoken of and to your mum, I'm guessing so," Ian offered, panicked by the anger brewing on Amy's features.

"But he would never _try_ anything, you have my word, he's not like that," Ian rushed to explain, relieved by the decline of her anger into thoughtfulness.

"Oh my god, do you think they used to be together, or something," Amy mumbled disbelievingly, hands flying out of Ian's and planting themselves on her hips. A frown etched itself on Amy's face. Picturing her mom with anyone but her dad made her shudder.

"I dunno," Ian shrugged, "but my mum knows he fancied her — actually, she thinks he still _does_ — so it's possible that they were, at some point?"

"That's so _weird_ ," Amy blurted, eyes fluttering to the crowd to locate her father. She wanted him to march right up to Vikram Kabra and take her mother far, far away from him.

"Agreed," Ian nodded, "but still, I wonder what happened between them," he frowned, scrutinizing their exchange for clues.

Amy glared at Vikram, overcome by a surge of protectiveness as she watched her mother's lips twitch into a smile at something the former King said.

A sense of alarm struck Amy. If her mother and Vikram Kabra, formerly a Madrigal Queen and Lucian King, hadn't been able to stay together. . .

She snuck a look at Ian from underneath her lashes, searching for reassurance in his current state of coolheaded-ness.

Unfortunately, his jaw had tensed, and his eyes sunk into hers with the weight of their mutual realization.

"We don't even _know_ what happened between them," Ian reminded her gently, cooling quickly, "and as the most brilliant woman I know once said, 'we are not our parents'".

Amy decided he was right.

* * *

"Make it quick, Vikram, I'm in mourning," Hope snapped, her resolve impenetrable. She noticed his Adam's apple quiver, while a deep breath exited his lips, and grappled with the guilt that came with addressing him so severely. She knew better than anyone how soft-spoken he really was, and he wouldn't have asked to speak with her in such a public setting were it not urgent.

"It's about our children," he explained, "don't look at them, they probably have enough questions about this exchange as it is".

"What about them?" Hope asked, knowing full well what he intended to bring up, and dreading the discussion.

"You can see as well as I can that they have become. . . involved," Vikram's enunciation of the word suggested that he thought it to be the most vile conglomeration of syllables in spoken language.

"Yes, I'm aware," Hope nodded, "but it's not our place to pry".

"It's not a practical relationship, Hope, you know it's not," he urged, causing her temper to flare, "they both have titles and their own kingdoms to rule, and if they plan to get married-"

"Is it a Lucian tradition to stop your children from marrying those they love?" Hope wondered, the soft sadness in her tone silencing Vikram.

"Hope-"

"No, I understand your concern but frankly, Amy and Ian have already accomplished far more in a few short months than the two of us managed to in _decades_ , and if they want to be together I'm sure they will find a way, so we will leave them be unless they seek our counsel," Hope decided, an accusatory glint in her jade eyes, which skimmed across the tightness of Vikram's jaw. As his bright amber gaze penetrated hers, Hope found herself slipping into old habits as she counted flecks of onyx and hazel, noting the faint shadows that ensconced once unworried eyes. Something deep inside her seemed to stir, and she tried with every fiber of her being to still it.

"As you wish," Vikram bowed his head, and Hope wanted to smack herself for admiring the handsome, aristocratic lines of his profile. She was a happily married woman, for Madeleine's sake!

"Wonderful, now if you'll excuse me," Hope attempted to slip away, before she stiffened as familiar fingers brushed her wrist.

"Just a moment, your Majesty," Vikram's breath tickled her ear, and a wave of nostalgia crashed over her as she was claimed by a shudder.

"Yes?" she sniffed, eyes averted, a lump in her throat. She didn't need this right now, her mom was dead and she'd been crying all day, and _this_ was about to send her over the edge once more.

"My duty to my kingdom and my family has always come first, but if I didn't think you could find happiness without me I would never have left your side," he whispered hoarsely, causing her heartbeat to come to a dangerous halt.

"Why are you telling me this?" she murmured, blinking away the stupid tears that stung her eyes.

"I just want you to know that it puts me at ease to think that even though I couldn't make you mine, you found someone who loves you the way I do," Vikram said firmly, eyes like molten gold as they poured into hers, "and I will always, _always_ , wish the best for you and all the people that make you happy".

"Thank you," she offered him a watery smile, a foreign sense of regret piercing her heart.

"However, you must understand," he continued quietly, "that you are the love of my life, and it's alright that you don't feel the same way, but for me, it has always been, and always will be, _you_ ".

Hope's words were caught in her tightening throat, suppressed feelings swirling in clouds of confusion that fogged up the lenses of her mind.

So she did the next best thing she could think of.

She ran away.

* * *

"Thank you for coming, Sinead," Amy smiled in an earnest display of gratitude, clasping the Ekat Queen's hands and accepting the gentle squeeze they gave her own.

"Of course, Grace Cahill may not have been from my own kingdom, but she was a great ruler," Sinead said kindly. Amy overlooked the haughty undertones of her compliment, and thanked her.

"Were you by her side when she passed?" Sinead asked, eyebrows drawn together in inquisitive sympathy.

"No," Amy replied bitterly, a sad smile gracing her lips, "I was away on a diplomatic mission in the Lucian Kingdom".

"Diplomatic mission?" Sinead raised an eyebrow, "surely, you mean a conjugal visit!"

Amy's mouth popped open in surprise as the older girl chuckled demurely, sobering quickly. "I apologize," she nodded, "it is unlike me to make such an insensitive jest, and inappropriate of me to do so at your grandmother's wake".

"What gave us away?" Amy ignored her "apology", frowning in concern. Amy had thought it bad enough that their parents, their siblings, the heads of the Madrigal Ambassadors, and most of the staff at the Lucian palace had been aware of her relationship with Ian. But if _Sinead_ had noticed there was something between them, it meant that there were certainly others who knew, and Amy had so wished to keep things quiet. _So much for privacy_ , Amy grumbled internally.

"Well, you and His Majesty are not exactly discreet, with all the hand holding and caressing and _eye sex_ ," Sinead tittered, causing Amy's cheeks to redden. She was right. "I mean, despite the blood-splattered history of his kingdom and the fact that courtship between a king and queen is a political _nightmare_ , I must applaud your taste — he _is_ gorgeous!" Sinead declared with a flourish of her hands.

"Are we really that obvious?" Amy sighed, unable to hide a smile of her own as she allowed herself to be teased. It had been a long time since she had felt like a normal teenager, gossiping with a friend about a boy.

"'Obvious' is an understatement, darling," Sinead giggled, "you can barely keep your eyes or your hands off each other! I mean, he's staring at you right now!"

Amy's head swiveled left and right, before she pinpointed Ian standing several paces behind her, eyes grazing hers as he was engaged in a conversation with Jonah and Broderick Wizard. He offered her a cheeky smile, rolling his eyes before they darted left to indicate his companions. Amy grinned back, before turning to Sinead.

"You _may_ have a point," she laughed, bracing herself to engage in more banter with Sinead until she spotted a petite figure clad in muddy brown running frantically across the grounds, followed by a handful of guards, causing a commotion amongst the guests.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty!" Amy heard the figure cry in a high-pitched, feminine voice as they made a beeline for Ian.

Exchanging a look of confusion with Sinead, she ran towards Ian herself, Sinead hot on her heels. She approached him from the side, placing a hand on his arm as the strange woman approached him.

"Can I help you?" Ian asked uncertainly, sharing a look of bewilderment with Amy before turning back to the woman.

She was likely a few years older than they were and very small, wearing a deep red dress of which the skirts had been torn to shreds, revealing the beige underskirts, which in turn were stained by grass. Her brown cloak and deep brown hair were also caked in dirt, while slight cuts ran along her forehead and chin.

"Pardon my intrusion," she gasped, and Amy frowned in concern, noticing how faint she looked.

"Give her something to drink, please," she instructed a nearby waiter, who handed her not a glass, but a jug, of lemon infused water.

The breathless woman lifted it to her lips, draining its contents with haste before wiping her mouth and nodding a thanks to Amy.

"Well?" Ian demanded, mild annoyance evident in his tone as many of the guests were now blatant in their staring.

"Like I was saying, Your Majesty, I'm sorry for intruding, but I am a maid at the seaside estate, and your mother has burned it to the ground and fled the scene on horseback!" she wheezed, and Amy felt dread creep into her senses as the maid's words sunk in.

The color had drained from Ian's face, and somberness settled in the air.

"Ian, we have to go, now," Amy stated, in crisis-mode, gently gripping his forearm, "she probably headed for the palace, and if we go on horseback we'll get there very quickly".

Ian was silent for a moment, assumably considering his options as a semicircle of strangers and family alike formed around them. Amy noticed her mother and father exchange worried glances, while Dan met her gaze in confusion, stood next to Hamilton Holt and Jonah Wizard, both of whom wore matching looks of concern. Vikram Kabra made his way to his son's side, snapping Ian out of his reverie.

"Yes, we must leave at once, but she's not headed for the palace, she's headed for parliament," Vikram grimaced at Ian, and Amy's chest tightened.

"Your sister," she breathed, noticing how Ian's muscles tensed under her fingers, "let's go, _now_ ".

"I'm coming with you," Dan demanded, stepping forward.

"Dan, you don't have to-" Amy began weakly.

"No, I'm coming," he said firmly, catching Ian's eye. Ian inclined his head in thanks, before Amy felt a hand grip her shoulder.

"This is clearly a constitutional crisis," Sinead frowned, "I will also accompany you".

"In that case, I will come too," Jonah Wizard nodded.

"As will I," Hamilton grumbled.

"Are you all sure? You don't have to do this," Ian confirmed, stony-faced as he ran his eyes over the volunteers.

He was met by solemn but sincere nods, and even though they _were_ in the midst of a crisis, Amy felt a warmth spread through her chest. After a violent history of non-cooperation, the kingdoms were finally working together.

"Fresh horses are ready for you in the stables," Hope explained, "if there is anything else we can provide, please let us know".

* * *

 _"Be careful, Dan."_

 _"We love you, Danny."_

 _"Look after your sister."_

His parents encouragement seemed to echo across the rippling plains as Dan rode alongside Amy, beads of sweat forming along his temple, his teeth grit in concentration. The clatter of hooves and the impassioned breying of the horses sent a rush of adrenaline through his veins.

They had been riding for what felt like hours, and after he dismounted Dan was sure an aching soreness would continue to sweep his thighs for days. He wasn't much of a horseman.

"How much longer till we get there?" he groaned to Amy, who's black skirts had ridden up to her knees.

"We're not far, now," Ian Kabra interjected, next to Amy on a dark thoroughbred.

A crease formed between Dan's eyebrows while his jaw firmly set, revealing his lack of skill at concealing his distaste for the slippery cretin that seemed to be taken with his sister. Ian Kabra had an annoying voice, was a pompous jerk, and had already made his sister cry once. Still, if Amy _really_ liked him then Dan would stay quiet, at least until the creep gave him reason not to. Amy was a huge dork, but Dan trusted her blindly. If she said Ian Kabra was a decent guy, then Dan would try to see it too, for her sake. And Ian Kabra might've been a pretentious asshole with hair that remained almost _suspiciously_ in place as they rode through the woods, but Dan would have to be blind not to see the way he looked at Amy — not in the gross way that most other guys seemed to look her, but like she was the only person in the room.

Dan shook off his worries, allowing his thoughts to be drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. As the horses careened down Gideon's Seat, Dan spotted the gleaming iron gates of the Lucian Kingdom, guarded by a legion of burly knights clad in red and gold.

"So, what's the plan?" Hamilton asked, gracefully halting his horse to watch the others pant and rub aching limbs.

"Right, knowing my mother, there's a strong chance she's left Natalie at the palace," he paused, deep in thought, turning to look at Amy who urged him to continue with a nod. "Father, why don't you go back to the palace? Even if Natalie isn't there, you'll be able to assemble a team to find her, or receive any messages from us and dispatch troops or supplies if we require any."

"Very well," Vikram accepted, "shall I go alone?"

Dan's eyes swept across the vaguely familiar faces of the other monarchs. It was clear that Ian and Amy would be heading to parliament, and having the rulers of the Janus, Tomas, and Ekaterina by their side would strengthen their position.

"I'll go with you," Dan said, "the five of you should stick together, if you're going to crash Lucian parliament".

Annoyance prickled under Dan's skin as Amy shot him a worried look. He knew she meant well, but he was a big boy now, and he could take care of himself. "I'll be fine, Ames," he coaxed, mustering a tense smile. It would do little to quell her worries, but it was the best he could do.

"Good, the four of you are with me, then," Ian nodded, "we're going to pay my mother a little visit".

* * *

i know i said this would be the last chapter but we still have like two to three chapters to go, now that I've rethought the ending to the story a bit! it might be getting kind of shit but i will DEFINITELY finish this story, im itching to write another amian au (maybe in a high school/uni setting, we shall see), but now i kind of want to write a hope/vikram thing as well. also i started a thingy to put all my amian drabbles into, so let me know if theres anything you want me to write about! and yes, the kingdoms each have a constitutional monarchy in place, but think more genovia where the monarch is an active head of state (love fictional politics!), not like the uk where parliament is sovereign! thank you so much for reading this far, i love u guys, and please leave me a review (brightens my day i swear)! (ps. im really curious to see if you guys have a fav/least fav chapter of this story, so let me know if you do!)


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